


The Independent Department of Chaos and Preposterous Issues

by frenchpirate (Whiskey_n_speed)



Series: fashionista!verse [1]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Office, Drama, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskey_n_speed/pseuds/frenchpirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The job was described as a ‘once-in-a-lifetime opportunity’, so of course Mikey accepted when he was offered the position as Administrative Support Supervisor, leader of a whole new department in the infamous fashion house Clandestine Inc. What he expects, is a schedule full of supermodels in expensive lingerie and a highly agreeably monthly salary.</p>
<p>What he gets instead, is running errands for a douchey fashionista-icon with a serious supremacist god-complex, stacks of paperwork that could embarrass the architects behind Empire State, and a couple of employees whose enthusiasm in arguing is the only thing remotely reasonable about them. </p>
<p>And Mikey Way gets his hands full at Clandestine, with a hand-waving, superficial idiot of a boss that keeps dropping work on his desk, a whimsy secretary with too much of a sex-life, a chain-smoking and chain-complaining assistant, an imaginary love-life, a proud mother, a soon to come winter collection fashion show as well as a soon to be additional title as uncle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fifth Floor

“It’s an outstanding position.” The authoritarian woman in the grey suit claimed. Mikey stared at the building he was about to enter. It consisted mostly of large panorama-windows, which made the fashion house look like a giant castle of glass. The empire of Clandestine Inc. gave an overwhelming first-hand impression.

“When I read your résumé, I was convinced that you could be exactly the guy for it.”

She was attractive, in a slick and slightly scary way, and Mikey was sure that if her title hadn’t been General Manager, she could easily have been one of the models. He followed her closely inside the wide front doors, through a spacious lobby where a tired-looking receptionist was seated behind a monstrous desk.  He sat lazily with his head leaning on his hand, staring emptily at the floor in front of him. Mikey could imagine that eight hours in a marble-cage like this could suck the energy out of anyone.

“I’m honored, Miss Asher.” He stated as she lead him into an elevator with mirrors for walls. Whomever built this place definitely had a strong sense of interior design, but they probably also had the economy to outlive even their wildest dreams. After all, Clandestine wasn’t a small industry anymore.

“You’re going to be in close contact with the absolute top of the company. Being an Administrative Support Supervisor holds a lot of responsibility, but it pays off too. You’re going to have very little boundaries when it comes to planning and arranging projects, and it comes with your own office, a secretary and an assistant.” She continued without paying further attention to his humbleness or the discreet glances he automatically shot her way.

“Sounds amazing to me.”

“Plus, being the leader of the newly established department, you’re going to be a huge part of Clandestines growth. Department Z is a comprehensive step in the right direction.”

They got out of the elevator at the top floor, where the huge windows gave an incredible view over the center of San Francisco. Mikey felt a feeling of satisfaction spread through his midriff as he saw desks the size of football fields lined up in see-through enclosures with expensive art on the walls. He was playing with the big boys now. This was the crown of the fashion world of California, and he’d just walked into the middle of it.

“Let’s take a look at your office to come.” She said and made her way down the corridor that ended in the elevator they’d just stepped out of. She turned a few corners, and Mikey had to pay a little more attention to their direction since he wouldn’t want to get lost in the labyrinth that was Clandestines top floor on his way out.

His office was placed in a corridor a little further towards the back of the building, slightly isolated from the rest of the offices. It suited him perfectly though, to not have his executives running back and forth right outside his door at all times. That way he could work completely on his own premises and at his own pace.

There were two other and remarkably smaller offices across from his, and Miss Asher informed him that those rooms was where his two employees where going to sit. Mikey nodded with a smile. _Saporta_ was engraved in a little sign on the first door and _Iero_ on the second one. Both names sounded kind of exotic, compared to his own flat east-coast Way. It wasn’t going to look all bad on it’s own little metallic sign on his own door though.

He spent a moment wondering if his co-workers were immigrants - maybe southern European or Mexican, and in that case, what their relationship to fashion as well as economics was – but he was quickly interrupted in his thoughts by Miss Asher that cleared her throat and continued talking.

“If there’s no further questions, then I’d suggest that we round off this meeting by a brief introduction to our CEO.” She asked with a cocked eyebrow in his direction, and he nodded appreciatively.

They headed back through the corridor that they’d arrived from, and ended up in front of the last and most impressive door on the entire floor, where an engraved sign a lot like the ones on the other doors told him that this office belonged to _Wentz, CEO_.

Miss Asher carefully knocked the door, subserviently as if this was the most supreme holy chamber they were about to enter. For a moment, Mikey felt the same kind of overwhelming pride as when standing outside the building and first entering the top floor with the great view. Then, the General Manager pushed open the door to reveal a sharply dressed man, sitting in a huge chair with his feet on the desk and talking loudly on the phone with someone.

“No, I already told you – no, it’s not ready until Monday – _Monday!_ Christ, I don’t have magic-“ He looked up as they entered his office with a questioning expression, before turning his attention back to the phone. “Yes, I’ll call you back, no, _call you back_ , as in later. Yes. Bye.”

He hung up the phone and sighed loudly, leaning back in his chair.

“ _Couturiers._ ” He mumbled with a roll of his eyes, as if that explained his annoyance completely. Mikey didn’t really get what the whole thing was about, but he saw Miss Asher nod understandingly and did the same.

“This is Michael Way. He’s our new Administrative Support Supervisor.” She started out and Wentz immediately looked a little more interested and leaned a little forward in his chair again.

“That’s great. Then we can _finally_ get Department Z up and running.” He cheered with a gesture towards the offices that Mikey and Miss Asher had just been looking at.

“It’s good to meet you, sir.” Mikey just said with an acknowledging nod.

“Sir? I like this one.” Wentz huffed, and then his cellphone rang again, hindering further conversation. Miss Asher gestured for Mikey to follow her back out the door, and right before she closed it behind them, Wentz looked up at her again.

“Vicky, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Call Saporta and Iero and tell them that they’ve got work to do from Monday morning.”

“You can come back tomorrow and get comfortable in the office, after all you’re going to be spending a while in there, but take the weekend off. We expect you here Monday at 8.” Miss Asher, or Vicky as Wentz had called her, instructed him as they took the elevator down to the lobby again. The guy behind the counter, who sported an impressive afro and a combination of clothes that was slightly misplaced in a fashion house, still hadn’t moved from his spot with his head in his hand.

Mikey shook her hand and sent her one last long look before she turned around and went back inside and left him on his own. Yeah, she was attractive, but she also seemed like the type who would drag someone into an alley and slaughter them if they crossed her. Mikey decided to stay out of her way. His boss, Wentz, seemed friendlier though. Now he only needed to size up these two employees that would be available from the beginning of next week. He’d never had employees before, in his twenty seven years of mediocre middle-class life, and now he was suddenly involved with the board of a successful fashion house. How exactly that happened was still kind of blurry for him, but it involved a handful of degrees to put on his CV and a few hell of some great contacts.

He invited his closest family over for dinner that night, consisting of his widowed mom, his brother and pregnant wife. They’d always been close, even though they were a colorful assembly. Both his brother and his wife were passionate artists and lived in a messy flat with art supplies on every possible horizontal surface, wore loose clothes with lots of colors and Mikey didn’t for one second doubt that they were the ideal people in the ideal surroundings to raise a cool kid.  
Mikey, on the other hand, lived in a world of pin-striped suits and in a respective terraced house that he’d shared with his girlfriend until sometimes last year where it had all gone to pieces for reasons that neither of them were really sure about yet. Now he lived there alone, which was fine actually since he was out of the house mostly anyways.

It was a nice dinner, despite Mikeys lack of gastronomic talent, and his mom went home early to drink wine by herself in front of the TV as she always did on weekday evenings, and his brother stayed late to discuss art as well as political matters with his younger brother who had looked up to him since he was old enough to walk.

When he went to bed that night, he felt more than ready for a future in a company that delivered a product he knew absolutely nothing about.

*

He arrived at his office at Clandestine at 7:49 Monday morning, with an attaché case in his hand that held his computer and various other things that he figured he might need on his first day of work. He nodded at everyone he met on his way to the top floor, even though he had no idea who any of them were, maybe except for the drowsy receptionist that was back in his spot, this time chewing on a piece of gum that he absently pulled out form between his teeth once in a while. Mikey smiled at him, and he pushed his chin up in response.

He was met by a lanky guy in an outfit that didn’t really suit the administration-atmosphere, but yet was more than fashionable. He grinned at Mikey when he approached the door that had already gotten a sign on it that said _Way_ in the same artistic letters that decorated the other two doors in the corridor.

“So, you’re Way.” He stated and Mikey nodded. This guy seemed relatively down to earth.

“Mikey is fine.” He shrugged, and the guy nodded.

“Saporta here. Gabe if you please. I’m supposed to be your secretary.”

“You’ve been here for a while?”

He hummed in agreement. “I know this place in and out.”

“Well, you’ve gotta be new to Department Z as well.” Mikey concluded, and then Gabe shrugged like that didn’t really matter.

“I’ve been promoted to Administrative Support Secretary. Before that I was Administrative Accountant Secretary. They like to throw titles around up here, but I still haven’t found out what the difference is except now I’ve got you to drag me around instead of Beckett over there.” He explained and gestured in another direction.

This guy was definitely the most manageable one that Mikey had met so far, and he instantly sensed that he didn’t really have to keep up a professional countenance in his presence. And he’d had his questions ever since he first contacted Clandestine, he’d just been too terrified and/or dazzled by Miss Asher to actually express his confusion in front of her.

“So – what exactly _are_ our jobs?” He asked carefully, and the guy let out a loud giggle.

“I just have to keep track of all your paperwork, and besides that anything you want me to.” At that, he winked obviously at Mikey. “But I’m positive that the only reason they made the effort to start up this whole Z deal and hire you was because of all the shit tasks they don’t want to do themselves.”

Mikey crossed his arms thoughtfully. That was an interesting point of view, and very different from Miss Ashers.

“If I’m right, then Z just stands for zhit and you’re like – king zhit.”

“That’s depressing.” Mikey stated.

“But you know what? Both our titles can be shortened to ASS. That almost makes up for all of it.” Gabe exclaimed, and almost before he’d ended the sentence he broke down in a giggle fit, and Mikey wasn’t really sure he got the joke. Then, Gabe headed back into his office and left Mikey alone in the corridor.

That was one employee down – now he only needed to meet the other one, and he wasn’t really sure how this was turning out and whether or not he should like it.

On his desk, two stacks of paper was already placed neatly, and he pushed them aside to fit his computer on his desk. He decided to look through them as soon as he’d checked his mail and whatever else he could make time pass with on the internet.

It turned out that every single piece of paper, and there were at least fifty, were undisclosed correspondences between Clandestine Inc. and lawyers, distributors, potential customers, purveyors or journalists, and every single one of them had some kind of issue that needed extra attention. Apparently, that was his job to take care of. Maybe Gabe was kind of right. Department Z was maybe Clandestines unofficial garbage bin.

But either way, the salary was almost worth it, and the title could probably be used as such an effective pick-up like that somewhere, a greasy teenage version of himself was having a stroke because of it. And maybe it was kind of funny that if he shortened it, it became ASS.

He picked up the first piece of paper – he might as well just start from one end and then work through the stack – and found that it was a distributor of some expensive textiles that wanted to either increase their shipments and therefore also their payments, or stop the cooperation completely. A fairly easy task, and a fairly big economic responsibility. That was what Mikey was all about. That degree in microeconomics with a side of project management that his mom had talked him into taking wasn’t completely wasted, then.

“Gabe?” He called across the corridor, to where the door to his secretary’s office stood wide open, much like his own. Apparently, neither of them approved as much of sealed doors and silence as their boss. “Can you fix me with some phone numbers from these people?”  
He pushed the piece of paper across the desk and Gabe quickly scanned it. “I’ll be right back at you, honey.” He assured, and made his way back into his own office.

During the day, as Mikey steadily worked his way through the first handful of conflicts that needed to be solved, he found out how impractical it was for him and Gabe to have each their office, since there immediately occurred a lot of running across the corridor with lists of phone numbers, printed documents, coffee and various messages that was too short to put in an email. But then again, if that was how things were done on the top floor, who was he to come and meddle in it.

Around lunch, there was a quiet but insisting knocking on his door, and Miss Asher stuck her dark-haired head in and asked him how he was doing.

“Great. It’s going forward and Gabe is really helpful.” Mikey said, and didn’t mention any of the things he’d discovered throughout the day that wasn’t really a part of her description of the job.

“Splendid. I knew you could run Department Z.” She replied with a triumphant smile.  
In that moment Gabe decided to show up in Mikeys doorway next to Asher, and send a cocked eyebrow in her direction. Mikey noticed that she clearly didn’t have the same effect on Gabe as she had on him.

“Look who the mighty lords blessed us with today.” He mumbled.

“And I who thought they’d kicked you out a long time ago.” Asher shot back and Mikey tried very hard to focus on his paperwork, without much success.

“If you moved your ass down here more than once a year to complain, then you’d know I’m staying where I am.” Gabe just shrugged and then turned around with a dramatic motion and headed back for his office. Asher let out a loud sigh and then she left Mikey alone as well. He sat back in his chair and wasn’t really sure what he’d just witnessed.

Around the end of the lunch break, he put down a cup of steaming coffee on Gabes desk and his secretary looked up at him from his computer where he was currently – or hopefully – writing a formal apology to a potential customer that had complained about a late reply.

“So, what was that about?” Mikey asked casually.

“You’ve got this wrong. I’m the one who brings _you_ coffee.” He picked up the cup and drank it anyways. “No hard feelings. She’s a lovely woman – if lovely means Satan whimpering at the mere sight of her – it’s just hard working with your ex.”

“Oh.” Mikey huffed.

“–especially when it ended because you both fucked the Administrative Accountant, whose office is a couple of doors down the next corridor, by the way.” Gabe continued, and Mikey spilled a bit of coffee on his shoes. Gabe just seemed to find the whole deal amusing.

“Wild.” he just said.

“Well, he _does_ look cute in that suit, the AA, it’s completely understandable. It’s just that he looks that much cuter _without_ his suit on, and fortunately I know a lot more about that than she does.”

Mikey then decided that lunch break was over.  

*

Mikey didn’t run into his second coworker before a few days later. The door with the name _Iero_ on had remained closed for as long as he’d been there, so Mikey assumed that he was either doing something in another part of the building, was home sick or on vacation, and didn’t ask about it.

“Can you change the light bulb in my office, it’s driving me crazy.” Mikey asked, sitting on the edge of Gabes desk, putting down some papers in the order that he had to deal with them in. They were at the end of the week, but the stack had also shrunk remarkably throughout the past few days, and Mikey considered his first couple of days at Clandestine a success.

“Not a job for an ASS.” Gabe shook his head. “Find you ASA.”

“What exactly is that short for?” Mikey asked. “And that’s Iero, right?”

“Administrative Support Assistant. Fancy word for a DIY. But yeah, Iero is the man.” Gabe said and picked up the first print Mikey had handed him, before without further hesitation dropping it in his top drawer and turning back to his online solitaire. No wonder he finished his tasks so fast. Mikey reminded himself to make Gabe clean out his drawers one of the upcoming days.

“So, do you know where he is?”

“In his office, probably.” Gabe said as if it was the most natural thing that their third coworker had been sitting isolated in his office for almost a week without any human contact.

“Wait, I thought he was out.” Mikey frowned.

“Why would he be out? You didn’t send him anywhere, did you?” Gabe said without moving his eyes from the screen.

“Well, no.”

“ _Well._ ” Gabe imitated with a grimace. “Then he’s _probably_ in his office.”

Mikey gave up on discussing the issue with his secretary by then, and exited his office to go knock at the door that said _Iero_. He couldn’t hear any reply from in there, so he pushed open the door to reveal an office smaller than both him and Gabes, where the walls were yellow from nicotine and a thick cloud of smoke met him as soon as he stepped inside.

In the middle of the room, at a desk that suited the proportions of the office, sat a small man with tattoos down his arms and with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. A transistor radio the age of Mikeys grandma was standing at the edge of the desk, playing some old rock tune that he was sure he’d listened to when he was younger.

“Who the hell are you?” The man that he assumed was Iero asked, but not in an unfriendly tone of voice. Just wondering.

“I’m Mikey Way. The new Supervisor.” He explained, already tired of his entire title, when he wasn’t trying to impress someone.

“Oh, thought you’d never show up.” Iero said with a dry laugh. “I’m Frank. I get all the shit done that Gabe is either too lazy or too whimsy to do.”

Well that was one way to put it, but he was probably right. “Can you change my light bulb?”

“Piece of cake.” Frank shrugged.

“What’s playing?” Mikey pointed at the radio.

“A Tout Le Monde. You know Megadeth, right?” He sounded almost scared that Mikey didn’t, but of course he did. They’d all been teenagers once, after all.

“I was a big fan. I guess I still am. Also, isn’t this a no-smoking zone?” He was more curious than restricting when he gestured to Franks cigarette instead.

Frank just shrugged again. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Sweet.” Mikey mumbled before retrieving back to his own office. He always had a crumbled pack of Dunhill in the inner pocket of his blazer, in case he got particularly stressed out or pissed off, which happened rarely – but still. It was nice to have the option.

The light bulb had stopped flickering before he even held his lunch break, and he kind of admired the stealth and quickness with which Frank had moved into his office, changed it and exited again while Mikey was in Gabes office or down by the coffee maker.

Before he went home that afternoon, Mikey slipped by Franks office again with a couple of folders filled with the issues that they had already taken care of.

“Don’t we have some kind of archive?” He asked and gestured with his chin towards the folders in his hands, which were filled with printed emails, descriptions of what solutions they’d reached, plus a few reports that Gabe had gotten around to writing in between his extended journeys to the coffee machine and games of solitaire.

“Uh, we have a bookcase.” Frank pointed towards one of the walls in his office, which was completely covered by an enormous bookcase that didn’t really hold anything besides a bucket and a few cleaning products.

“Why is it in here?” Mikey frowned.

“Where else would it be?” Frank frowned back, as if he was genuinely confused. Mikey put down the folders on his desk. They got heavy to carry around in the long run.

“Well, I don’t know. Somewhere more – uh, accessible.”

Frank just shrugged and took a drag of his cigarette. The radio was still on, and Mikey wondered if he was just sitting in here staring out into thin air whenever Mikey wasn’t asking him to do something, and he came to the conclusion that he might. He sensed that he wasn’t going to get any further in this situation, so he let the folders stay where he put them and headed back across the corridor to pack up his stuff and head home.

*

When he arrived at the corridor after the weekend, which he’d used to go out drinking and come back home alone and with a headache, quite unsuccessfully, he stopped up at the end of their corridor, looking at the landscape before him that looked mostly like IKEA had thrown up on the carpet. In the middle of tools, wooden slabs, the folders from last week and various other indistinguishable objects, Frank was lying on his knees, reading what looked like a manual on how to put together this monstrous piece of furniture.

“What’s this?” Mikey asked and made his way towards his office, pushed closely up against the wall to not step on anything important.

“Uh, that’s your accessible archive.” Frank replied without looking up.

“Yes but where does it _come from_?” Mikey tried again.

“Do you want it opposite of your own door or our doors? We can also split it and put each half against each wall over by the window.” Frank informed, ignoring Mikeys question.

“Uh, split.” Mikey mumbled and scratched the back of his head. Then he decided to leave Frank and his project alone and start working on the last couple of correspondences that they hadn’t finished last week. For once, he closed his door so the sounds of Frank working and swearing wasn’t going to distract him more than highly necessarily.

He had been sitting down for less than five minutes, and had only just reached to pick up the first print when his door was slammed up and Gabe staggered in, trying to step beside all the parts that was lying around there while Frank yelled after him to watch where he put down his ‘ridiculously big-ass feet’. Mikey sighed.

“Why are we talking apart all our furniture in the hallway?” Gabe said in an accusing tone of voice.

“I think we’re putting them together, to be honest.” Mikey replied calmly. This clearly didn’t fit Gabe and his personal daily agenda.

“I can’t get out of my office.”

“You got here.” Mikey said with a half-smile and Gabe crossed his arms.

“We can’t _work_ under these circumstances.” He shook his head and Mikey, who had by now gotten at least slightly familiar with Gabes dramatic approach to literally everything, just shrugged.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to.”

“Oh yeah, one more thing-“ Gabe added on his way towards Mikeys door, holding a finger in the air. “Beckett wanted you to come down to his office. I said I could do whatever it was but he wanted you.”

“That’s our-“

“Administrative Accountant. Yes, very much.” Gabe agreed before slamming Mikeys door again.

Mikey didn’t bother starting on a new task when that was something that seemed remotely more interesting waiting for him, so he left his desk and headed out in the corridor, where Frank was wrestling with putting two rods together.

“Talk about mood swings.” He just huffed as Mikey carefully walked by.

“Is he always like that?” Mikey asked.

“You get used to it.” Frank laughed his dry laugh, before accidentally hitting himself over his fingers with a screwdriver.

“That was like – god damn, cocksucking son of a-“ He yelled and waved his arms in the air, and Mikey decided that he better get down to the AA’s office before he got pulled into this extensive battle between Frank and the accessible archive.

It wasn’t hard to find the door that said _Beckett, AA_ since it was only a couple of corridors away from his own. He knocked briefly before entering, to reveal a guy, about his own age a build but with longer hair and a more delicate structure, sitting at another enormous desk and focusing hard on his computer.

“Beckett?” Mikey asked as he stepped into the room.

“That’s me. Just a moment.” He said and typed out the rest of his sentence before turning his attention to Mikey.

“Gabe said you asked for me.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be the new Supervisor. You’re the guy that stole my secretary.” Beckett said with a grin and Mikey caught himself thinking for a moment that Gab probably was slightly more productive around Mikey than he was around this guy. “I have these quarter-accounts than I need you to look through. The IRS needs them before the end of this week and I’ve got a lot going on right now.” He continued, before handing Mikey a stack of paper twice the size of the one he’d just spent a week working his way through. He repressed another sigh.

“I’ll do what I can.” Mikey nodded.

“Also, will you tell Gabe to come by around lunch? I heard him and Frank yelling at each other earlier. He could probably use some cheering up.” Beckett added before holding the door open for Mikey as he had his hands full of quarter-accounts.

“Oh my _god._ ” Mikey added and Beckett sent him a sly smile as Mikey headed back towards his own office. At least the tone around these offices wasn’t as formal as he’d thought at first, but on the other hand he wasn’t sure whether or not that was the preferable scenario.

Mikey spent the next few hours going through Becketts accounts, correcting a few things and mailing some of it across the corridor to Gabe who put it in folders, keeping it more systematized than it had been when Mikey got a hold of it.

Frank came in a couple of times, stacking half-finished pieces of what looked like the beginning of a huge room-divider in a corner of Mikeys office, just to get them out of his way while he worked on the rest of it, and right before lunch he moved his transistor from inside his office and out in the corridor. It was tuned into a station that played a lot of Stones, and Mikey wasn’t complaining at all. Gabe remained silent in his office.

Mikey looked up when someone knocked his door, neither Gabe nor Frank bothered with civilities like that, and he spotted Wentz standing in his doorway, looking at the absolute chaos that had spread throughout the corridor and all the way into his office during the day.

“Uh-“ He started, and Mikey felt an urgent need to explain.

“We needed an archive, for filing away finished tasks.”

“Sure. Uh, have you seen Gabe Saporta?” Pete asked, and Mikey tilted his head.

“What time is it?”

Pete shot a glance at his wrist, where an impressive watch was sitting. “Two thirty.”

“I’d say he’s in Becketts office right now. I don’t think they want to be interrupted.” Mikey tried to put it as discreet as possible.

To his surprise, Pete let out a braying laugh. “You catch up pretty fast.”

Mikey just shrugged in response.

“I’m on my way down for some office supplies from the third floor, but I need a hand carrying them. Usually Gabe goes with me, but I’m not picky.” Pete explained and Mikey looked down at the endless lines of numbers that he was currently working on. He could use a change of atmosphere – he’d been trapped in this office for more than a week now. He got up and followed his boss.

“Fifth floor is us, fourth is Technical Department, third is storage and supplies, second is the actual Fashion Department and Model Agency, and first floor is PR, Communication and Graphic Department. The basement is for parking.” Pete talked with a hundred and fifty miles an hour as they took the elevator downwards past all these floors with different parts of Clandestine that all served some kind of importance. Mikey nodded and tried to file away all that information for later, somewhere in the back of his head.

They got off the elevator on the third floor, and Pete guided them through a few narrow corridors and into a tiny office, filled with bookcases from floor to ceiling, every single shelve in them stuffed with blank paper, portfolios, files and folders, boxes of pens, pencils, erasers, paperclips and whatever else anyone might need, ever. The floor was stacked with flat cardboard boxes and empty paper bins and things that had fallen off the shelves. Order and system wasn’t exactly what dominated this place. In the middle of it all, a blonde guy with round cheeks was sitting, doing a crossword and looking severely bored.

“Patrick! My favorite supply guy.” Pete exclaimed as they stepped inside the badly lit room.

“Pete.” The guy nodded with a small smile, pushing his crossword aside.

“So, I need a stack of plastic pockets, rubber bands, a bottle of Tipp-Ex and-“ He held a short pause. “-your phone number.”

Mikey crossed his arms and stayed anonymous in the corner of the room, in between a few dusty boxes and a couple of old monitors with a bit of cobweb on them.

“I can help you with most of that.” Patrick replied calmly, and got up to start looking for the stuff that Pete had asked for. He found rubber bands in a drawer of his desk, Tipp-Ex in a cabinet in the corner opposite of the one Mikey was standing in, and plastic pockets in a top shelve in one of the bookcases. When he pulled them out a few of them fell down and spread across the floor, but he didn’t really seem to mind.

“There you go.” He smiled and handed the things to Pete, who immediately handed them over to Mikey without further interest in them. Mikey highly suspected that his boss didn’t really need Tipp-Ex after all.

“No phone number?” Pete asked with round eyes and Mikey repressed a giggle.

“Nope, sorry.” Patrick said with a shake of his head.

“Then how about tomorrow?” Pete asked and the guy just kept shaking his head. “Then what about marriage?”

By then, Pete seemed to have finally given up, and Mikey felt a weird kind of sympathy for his boss, along with the recent revelation that he was much less alike the usual royalty of the empire that was Clandestine. That amused Mikey almost as much as Ashers anger amused Gabe. Not that he had any reason to dislike Pete, but still.

Mikey didn’t really know if he was supposed to say anything as they headed back for the elevator, Mikey carrying everything that Pete had asked for, and Pete carrying two extra ballpoint pens. Pete had mentioned that Gabe was usually the one to accompany him to the supply and storage, and if Mikey assumed that this happened every time, which it seemed a lot like by the casual way the whole scene played out, then it was completely understandable since Gabe seemed to have a lot less boundaries than most other people.

“Maybe he’s taken.” Pete mumbled thoughtfully as he leaned on the mirrored wall of the elevator.

“Maybe he’s straight.” Mikey added carefully, and Pete looked up at him.

“This is a fashion house, we haven’t seen a straight guy around since my dad arrived at the opening ceremony years ago – and even he has a serious case of loose-wrists.” Pete explained like that was the most natural thing, and in that moment he reminded Mikey a little of Gabe. “I think the most masculine person around here is Vicky.”

Mikey couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that. “She’s terrifying.”

“She does the work of ten people, and kicks said ten peoples asses in the meantime.” Pete said with a raised eyebrow. “Amazing, but indeed, _terrifying_.”

“So, what now?” Mikey asked when they had entered Petes office and he’d put all the supplies down on his desk.

“Well, I could use donuts and coffee.” Pete hinted. “There’s this bakery across the street, it’s _heaven_.”

Mikey couldn’t believe it. One thing was picking up office supplies for a fashionista with a serious heartache, but being sent after donuts was a whole different thing. He was leading an entire department, and yet his job description was not entirely different from the one of a bellhop. On the other hand, it was either this or Becketts quarter-accounts, and besides, he was kind of hungry.

When he came back through the lobby a good twenty minutes later with his arms full of pink boxes, he spotted the bored guy behind the marble-counter playing some kind of really retro handheld game.

“You want a donut?” Mikey asked and let one of the boxes fall down on the counter.

“Yeah sure.” The guy with the afro paused his game and looked up at him underneath his giant hair. “What’s the cause?”

“It’s my second week of work and my secretary is screwing the accountant, my boss felt inspired and unsuccessfully tried to pick up the office supply guy, and now I have to comfort him in the form of sugary goods.” Mikey explained and the guy snickered loudly.

“This company is a train wreck.” He just mumbled with a grin, stuffing his mouth full. “This is the daily three o’clock event. I’m Joe, by the way.”

“Mikey, I’m the new guy in Department Z.”

“I’m the receptionist. Or well, that’s my official job description, but mostly I chew gum and detect rumors. I don’t even know why we have a lobby. No one has been here since, like, emailing was invented.”

“But in exchange you know everything about everyone?”

“Except you.” Joe grinned and poked Mikey lightly in the chest, so he almost dropped the rest of the donuts too. “But don’t worry. I’ll get there. The walls have ears, or whatever – I’m like, a wall, then.”

Mikey didn’t reply to that, he just nodded as farewell and headed towards the elevator and the top floor where his heartbroken boss was waiting.

He didn’t bother with knocking when he reached Petes office, which would have been hard to do anyways since his hands were full of baked goods, and Pete looked up with a surprised expression when he entered.

“Donuts.” He stated and dropped three boxes on his boss’ desk. He kept the last box in his hands. He could use an overdose of sugar by now. It had been an eventful day.

“Amazing.” Pete stated and grabbed a blue iced donut as Mikey exited his office before he came up with more errands that he wanted Mikey to run.

Back in his own corridor, it still looked like the storage room of a larger IKEA shop in the worst rush hour, and Frank was sitting inside his office on the edge of his desk with a cup of black coffee and a cigarette. Gabe was still nowhere to be seen.

“Doesn’t our boss have anything else to do that to hit on his employees?” Mikey asked outright and Frank shrugged.

“He’s been doing that for months now without luck. It’s only a matter of time before the poor guy turns him in for sexual harrassment. And to answer your question; No.” Frank shook his head with an indulgent laugh, and offered Mikey a cigarette in exchange of a donut. To Mikey, that was a more than fair trade.

“He’s supposed to take all the essential decisions regarding our collections and the agency that they started up recently.” Frank started out, eagerly switching between eating his donut and smoking in what, to Mikey, seemed like a slightly unappetizing combination.

“So why isn’t he doing that?”

“Because – and behold, you’ve only witnessed the top of the iceberg – our vice-CEO, who isn’t even sitting on this floor, has something serious going on with the talent scout, who went to college with the fashion manager. The three of them has this clique-thing and does most of the work completely independent on Wentz. Don’t get involved with them, they’re kind of weird.” Frank explained, and Mikey had to sit down on a piece of the room divider, taking a long drag of the cigarette and trying to process the insane amount of information he was receiving.

“So basically, Wentz doesn’t have a lot to do besides mingling with the administration and sitting around in his office playing solitaire. Besides, I don't think responsibility is his cup of tea." Frank ended, and Mikey nodded.

“Then at least I know where Gabe has it from.” He added, and Frank sent him a lopsided smile.

“Speak of the devil…” Gabe chimed in from the doorway. “What did I miss?”

“Donut?” Mikey offered, and Gabe quickly made his way towards Franks desk where the half-empty box of donuts were placed. “Pete needed your assistance today.”

“Oh, did you tell him I was busy?” Gabe asked casually.

“More like getting busy.” Frank coughed discreetly from his desk and Gabe sent him a short glare.

“I filled in for you.” 

“They’d be a cute couple, right?” Gabe demanded to know. Mikey shrugged.

“That Patrick guy looked majorly uncomfortable.”

“That’s because he thinks that if he tells Pete that he’s a straight up idiot he thinks he’s gonna get fired. But Petes not like that at all. That’s why he usually brings me so I can tell him that he’s a straight up idiot.” Gabe said with a wave of his hand. Once again, Mikey got this feeling that everyone except him found these things completely natural, and he just wasn’t really a part of it – yet, perhaps. “Did you tell Pete Wentz that he’s a straight up idiot?”

Mikey shook his head. “No. I’ve worked for him for eight days. I didn’t really consider that an option.”

“Great.” Gabe sighed with a roll of his eyes, shoving the last bit of his donut in his mouth. “That’s why.”

*

Mikey was only slightly out of it when he talked to his brother that same evening, and his brother was also only slightly out of it but for entirely different reasons that was more baby-related than job related, and mostly it seemed to Mikey that they had two different conversations going on, on the same phone-line. 

 “-everyone is screwing each other, it’s like a fucking episode of gossip girl-”

“-and I found out how many different brands of diapers there is – like what if I get the wrong ones, and what if the baby is allergic to that exact brand-“

“-and they made me go and pick up donuts today when I had the quarter-accounts to look through-“

“Wait, do you watch _gossip girl_?”

“That’s _irrelevant_.” Mikey sighed and stared at his hand. He was sitting at his dining table with a drink on the rocks, finding it funny how much he was starting to look like his mom. He turned off his TV, just to prove his point, if to no one else then to himself at least.

“You can’t be an uncle who watches gossip girl, Mikey.” Gerard tried to sound serious, but suddenly the atmosphere had lightened up a little, at least in his end of the line.

“Says who? I’m going to be an uncle who works at a fashion house – what’s the difference?” Mikey snickered.

“True. But Mikey?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll do awesome.”

“You will too.” Mikey said with a small sigh, more out of tiredness than anything else, and it didn’t take many more minutes before they hung up, and he was much calmer than when he dialed.

*

“What in _the world_ is that?” Asher roared throughout their corridor, and it only took a few moments before both Mikey, Gabe and Frank were sticking their heads out of each their door. Frank quickly hid away his cigarette, but Mikey was pretty sure Asher didn’t really pay attention to it at the moment.

She was standing at the end of the corridor, pointing towards the huge room divider that was slowly starting to look like what it was originally meant to be, a place for all the finished tasks, reports and prints. It still missed most of the top shelves that was lying around on the floor, still just rods and slabs, but Frank was working on it. So far they’d already filled part of the bottom shelf.

“That’s our archive.” Gabe responded calmly to the furious manager. “It’s coming along very handy.”

“Who gave you permission to put that up?” She demanded to know, in a cold tone of voice. Gabe looked like this was the highlight of his week.

“I believe I did.” Mikey said and took a step out of his door, standing upright and face to face with Asher. “As the leader of this Department, I found it necessary to have an accessible archive for our finished correspondences. And as you see-“

He made a gesture towards the monstrous piece of furniture that took up half the corridor, at least.

“It’s ruining the atmosphere. It needs to go.” She continued heartlessly.

“Vicky, _darling_ -“ Gabe started and Mikey pulled back a little. If things were going to be thrown, he didn’t want to be in the immediate line of sight. “As far as I’m aware, we’ve been equipped with the absolute back corridor of this entire floor, and the only ones who ever comes here would be the three of us. That is, of course, except the few occasions in which you have blessed us with your jubilant company. And since I can conclude that our atmosphere is _absolutely_   _fine_ , and yours were probably ruined already, I don’t see the need to make a problem.”

She looked like she would’ve probably strangled Gabe if there hadn’t been two eye witnesses present. Instead she just turned around and started walking back towards where she came from.

“I’m not done with you.” She pointed in their general direction right before she turned the corner, and she had been gone for less than five seconds before Gabe had to sit down in his doorway from an intense case of giggling.

“One of us should probably drop a subtle hint to Pete about how much we need that archive before she gets there and explains to him how much she needs it gone.” Frank mumbled from his doorway where the burnt-out cigarette had made a re-appearance along with a large lighter. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before the whole corridor smelled like lighter-gas.

“I’ll do that.” Mikey offered. “Gabe, you’ll probably rather systematize the quarter-accounts in a couple of folders and drop by Beckett with them later. And Frank, please just move all of this somewhere else in case she comes back.”

“You know me.” Gabe said and winked at him, while Frank grunted some kind of reply and went back inside his office.

He’d only been around Pete Wentz one single time, but he considered that enough for him to learn how to behave around him. So it was with another pink box filled with powdered donuts that he quickly knocked his boss’ door before entering without waiting for a reply.

“D’you have a minute?” He asked politely, while determinately entering the room regardless of Petes answer. “I brought donuts.”

“Sounds like I have all the minutes you need.” Pete said with a satisfied look at the box in Mikeys hands.

Mikey calmly sat down in the chair opposite of Pete, who grabbed a donut and then turned his full attention to Mikey.

“I had a small encounter with Miss Asher this morning. She was very dissatisfied with the installation of the archive that we’ve started in Department Z.”

“Why’s that?” Pete asked, inelegant and with his mouth full of sugary powder.

“Apparently it ruins the atmosphere. But I think that when all our finished projects are displayed like that, it gives an impression of a hardworking company.”

“Point.” Pete said and waved his finger close to Mikeys face, sifting powder from his hands on Mikeys shirt. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

On his way out of Petes office, he felt a small fire of triumph burn in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t wait to tell Gabe and Frank about his success.

“Way, one thing more!” Pete called right before he would’ve closed the door behind him. Mikey wondered if that was how he delegated all the work he wanted done.

“What?”

“Can you slip by supply and storage and check if Patrick is in today?”

One thing was finding the supply room when he had an eager fashion-icon in horribly colored sneakers powerwalking in front of him, but a whole other thing was finding it on his own. He knew that the corridor-system was probably completely identical to the one on his own floor, it was always like that in newer buildings, but that didn’t help him the slightest when he had no idea where the supply room was.

He’d spent about fifteen minutes turning corners and feeling like he, with each step, got further and further away from both the elevator and the supply room, and suddenly he found himself in the middle of a another badly lit storage room with plastic boxes filled with what looked like old clothes. His guess was that they were garbage from another decade, and were now about to be recreated and brought back in the next collection. Some of those dresses looked like something his mom would’ve worn in her youth, at least.

He was pretty sure that him and Pete didn’t pass through that exact storage hall when they’d been at Patricks the other day, so he turned around and started heading back through a few corridors, before he almost ran headfirst into a huge guy that was standing in the middle of his way.

“Who are you?” The guy, who was blonde and ruddy, with a lip-ring and a blue coverall, demanded to know.

“I’m Mikey Way. I’m from upstairs and I’m kinda lost.” He explained briefly. “I need to find the supply room.”

“Oh, you’re one of Petes suit-boys.” The guy said, still sounding slightly skeptical. Mikey was kind of frightened that the guy would beat him up for whatever reason.

“You know, Patrick isn’t interested in Pete. Maybe you should go back to the elevator.”

For a second, Mikey thought of his previous job, a secretary for a small real estate agent. He’d never had to deal with being threatened, crazy ex-girlfriends or people’s complicated relationships in that office. Clandestine was definitely something to itself.

“Bob!” Someone suddenly yelled from the other end of the corridor. At first, Mikey thought that it was Joe from the lobby, but as the guy in a matching blue coverall came closer with a mop in his hand, he spotted that it was just because he had an afro that almost matched Joes. “Bob, what are you doing? Who's that?”

“Ray, this guy wants to talk to Patrick. He’s from upstairs.” Bob informed and Mikey tried taking a discreet step backwards.

“Patrick can make his own decisions, Bob.” The guy named Ray said calmly.

“I know, but he _doesn’t_. He lets that idiot run around down here every other instant with his subtle hints and stupid jokes.” Bob complained and rolled his eyes. Mikey felt like he was in the middle of a conflict that had absolutely nothing to do with him at all, and that had emerged before he’d even heard of Clandestine Inc.

“I’ll take you there.” The afro-guy offered, and Bob made a resigned motion with his hands before taking the mop that Ray handed him and heading in the other direction.

“Don’t worry about Bob, he just gets a little over-protective.” Ray explained as they made their way through what seemed like endless corridors. Mikey wondered how exactly a floor the same size as his own could feel that many times bigger. “It’s because it’s only ever really the three of us down here. You get this sense of community when you’re kind of isolated.”

“Well, Pete is an idiot too.” Mikey added. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Really?” Ray said with a raised eyebrow.

“I think it’s a commonly known fact.” Mikey snickered.

“Here it is.” Ray pointed towards a door that Mikey definitely knew he’d seen before. Then Ray quickly explained him the way back to the elevator before leaving him alone in the dim corridor. Third floor was definitely kind of creepy with the lack of light and types like Bob guarding the place.

“Uh, Patrick, hi.” Mikey said as he entered the door and the guy from the other day was settled behind the desk with his crossword exactly like the last time. “I’m Mikey Way.”

“Hi, you were down here the other day with Pete, weren’t you?” Patrick asked and looked up from his desk.

“Yeah. That’s actually why I’m here, to apologize.” Mikey said.

“Why would _you_ want to apologize?” Patrick frowned.

“I didn’t know that Gabe usually stops Pete in his, y’know, flatter.” Mikey shrugged and at that, Patrick laughed.

“Well, he comes back either way. He’s a persistent fucker.” He grinned and Mikey couldn’t help but smile. “It’s okay. Not a lot of people comes down here.”

“Oh, okay. You just seemed like, uh, well – that you’d like him to stop.” Mikey said.

“I can handle it.” Patrick assured. “Otherwise Bob can.”

Mikey sent him a lopsided smile. “Absolutely.”

When Mikey came back up to fifth, he went by Petes office. He was on the phone when Mikey entered, this time without either knocking or waiting, but quickly hung up when he saw who had entered.

“So, is he here?”

“Nope, sorry.” Mikey said with what was supposed to be a semi-empathic smile. “I only found a caretaker named Bob.”

“Jesus, that guy is almost as scary as Vicky. If I asked him out he’d knock me out.” Pete widened his eyes.

“He almost knocked me out.” Mikey mentioned with a grimace. Maybe that was an exaggeration, but whatever. 

“You didn’t hit on him, did you? Is he your type?” Pete asked and sounded so genuinely interested that Mikey got completely overwhelmed.

“Uh, not exactly.” Mikey shrugged. He didn’t really know what to say, so he just headed back towards his own office.

As soon as he pushed open the door to his own domicile, he could feel an impressive sigh on its way. The corridor had been remarkably clean for pieces of room divider, which was an achievement to itself, but it kind of killed the joy when the remaining slabs that Frank still hadn’t put together was all stacked on top of Mikeys desk.

“Frank, uh, good thing you moved the stuff, but did it _have_ to be on my desk?” He asked the Assistant that was sitting in his own chair, fidgeting with the manual and a couple of screws.

“Well, you weren’t using it.” Frank shrugged.

“I was downstairs. I need it now.” Mikey said resignedly.

“Use Gabes. He’s still delivering accounts to Beckett.” Frank mumbled without ever lifting his eyes from the piece of paper in front of him. “You can finish the correspondences in there.”

Mikey didn’t really have energy to discuss the topic further, and brought his stuff with him to Gabes desk, where he was still sitting, finishing up a deal with a journalist who wanted some pictures of the lobby and the front of the building, when Gabe returned. 

“What are you doing in here?” He asked with a frown when he spotted Mikey at his desk.

“Frank is using my office as storage. Also, you have sex hair.” Mikey responded while still typing out his reply to the journalist.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gabe grinned. “A whole other story is, Pete gave me these.”

He dropped a stack of paper the height of a small child in front of Mikey.

“What are those?”

“Outfits. For the next collection.” Gabe explained. “This is huge. First of all they say the winter collection is going to be groundbreaking, and second of all because it’s the first time we have resources for our own independent fashion-show. Of course we’re not really a part of that as much as Pete, Vicky and the guys down on second floor, but the thing is we need like three billion copies of each of these outfits.”

“Why in the world do we need that?” Mikey asked with a tired look.

“One for us, one for Pete, Vicky, a stack for Fashion Management, one for the Agency, a couple for the storage and one for each sponsor, one for each magazine that shows interest in us, and finally, one for the archive.” He pointed out towards their half-finished room divider. Mikey felt tired just from listening to Gabe talking.

“Then we’re gonna need a photocopier. Can you tell Frank to look for one? I need to finish this up, it’ll only take a moment. Also, is there any way where we can like, systematize all that and still keep an overview of how far we are?” Mikey instructed and Gabe nodded.

“Aye, sir. I’ll figure something out and talk to Frank.”

Approximately forty minutes went by from Gabe left his own office and until Mikey had typed out the last email and shut down his computer. It wasn’t a whole lot of time, and yet when he stepped out into the corridor, a complete transformation had happened.

Apparently, Gabes sense of system and overview meant taping every single piece of paper onto the walls, and when he was in possession of a few hundred different pieces of paper, they ended up covering every single inch of the walls in their corridor, the doors, the panorama window in the end wall – which gave their department about as bad lighting as storage and supply – and also a large part of the ceiling of the corridor. Mikeys first thought was that they wouldn’t be able to find their offices now, because all these pictures of clothes was great camouflage for the doorknobs. His second thought was what would happen when Asher saw this. That one was slightly better than the first one. Then he spotted Frank in the middle of the entire fashion-inferno, pushing a photocopier towards his own office door.

“This is – _interesting_.” Mikey stated and Frank just turned around and looked at him with an expression that told him to shut up and the cigarette hanging a little lower in his mouth than usual.

“This is _savagery_.” He groaned before spending a good deal of time searching for those particular pieces of paper that hid his door. “I’m going to put my cigarette out in his ear.”

Then Frank disappeared between some of the outfits and Mikey wondered if Gabe was right and Department Z was really just Clandestines garbage bin. And that Mikey was the king of it.

He looked around at the walls, papered with pictures of clothes, then at the half-finished piece of massive furniture down in the opposite end, and at the rest of it stacked on his desk, making it completely inaccessible, and then Gabe who showed up from down by the other offices with his messed up hair and his arms full of more copies. Garbage bin or not, Department Z was definitely savagery. And he was in charge of keeping it under control.


	2. Hierarchy

Joe was half-asleep across the counter when Mikey passed by on his way to the elevator Monday morning, and if Mikey hadn’t known exactly how empty the lobby was throughout the day, he would’ve been worried that Joe of all people, was the first impression that anyone from outside got of Clandestines employees. Then again, he had other and more urgent things to worry about, having worked for the fashion house for less than a month and already being knee-deep in their first fashion show ever, despite the fact that his official job description was mostly paperwork.

Busy or not, he dropped by supply and storage on third floor on his way up, as he had finally learned the way from the elevator to Patricks office. 

“Good morning.” Patrick greeted with one of his small smiles as Mikey entered. 

“I brought donuts.” He said and put a pink box down in front of Patrick, who immediately grabbed one, getting a bit of icing on his crossword. 

“How’s Pete?” He asked and Mikey smiled. Maybe Petes futile crush on Patrick had left some kind of impression, or else Patrick was just worried about his mental state. Mikey had figured that Patrick worried a lot, even though he’d only started dropping by his office for small-talk and donuts every morning a week and a half ago. 

“Busy – for once.” Mikey grinned. “I bet his solitaire misses him.” 

“With the fashion show and all?” 

Mikey nodded and sighed just by the mention of it. “Friday, the vice-CEO, Ross, showed up, though he usually sits isolated down on second floor. I’d never even seen the guy before, but what a journey that is by the way, and now his bustling about fifth floor and giving everyone orders.” 

“Oh, Ryan. He’s a chapter to himself. I still haven’t figured out if his suits are fashion-revelations or fashion-catastrophes, but either way they’re complex.” Patrick said with a small laugh. 

“I feel like I’m going blind if I look at him for extended periods of time.” Mikey raised his eyebrows. “Apropos, I should probably get up there and see if it’s as chaotic as usual.” 

“See you ‘round. Thanks for the donut.” Patrick called before Mikey was out his door with his pink box from the bakery across the street. The whole department, plus Pete, Patrick and Joe had by now become kind of dependent on Mikeys visits with sugary provision.

“Have you been here all weekend?” Mikey asked and pointed to the mattress and the thin blanket that was lying around on the floor of Gabes office. “That’s what I call dedication.” 

“That’s weird, I call it slavery. Ross told me that he needed at least three complete stacks of copies this morning.” Gabe said in between two serious yawns, and pointed towards three identical towers of paper on his desk next to his make-shift bed. Mikey patted his shoulder understandingly. “That man is a curse.” 

“I get why they hid him away downstairs. Take a donut.” 

“If not for the sake of our eyes.” Gabe giggled, and gave Mikey a thankful nod in exchange. 

“Beckett mailed me some additions to the accounts I helped him with last week, I just have to finish that and I’ll come help you with the copying.” 

“Love ya.” Gabe made a kissy-face at him before disappearing out the door and down towards the photocopier, that had slowly but steadily been covered with copies of clothes just like every other surface in Department Z through their project with the winter collection outfits.

He spend a few minutes locating his own door behind the copies, only to discover that Frank still hadn’t gotten any further with putting together the room divider, and his desk was still covered with various parts of it and completely inaccessible. And across the corridor, Gabes desk was covered in stacks of paper that could probably reach Mikeys knees if he put them on the floor. It exhausted him to just think about moving any of it, so he ended up putting himself on the floor instead, residing on Gabes mattress with his laptop on his knees.

There was about five minutes of silence to work in before he heard a quick knocking on the doorframe and spotted Pete in the doorway. 

“Why are you down there?” He asked with a frown. 

“Change of elevation can increase people’s effectivity.” Mikey said sarcastically before gesturing towards the overfilled desk. 

“Ryan asked if you had a list of the magazines we’re gonna get ads in.” Pete explained. 

“You know you’re his boss right, you can make him get his own stuff.” Mikey replied as he pasted some of the last additions into the final document. The mattress was actually fairly comfortable to sit on, and he considered suggesting replacing all Department Z’s desks with mattresses and blankets, if not for anything else then just to see Vickys reaction to it. 

“Yeah, but I think I’ve had my daily dose of Vicky and Ryans combined company fulfilled. Whatever can get me out of that conference room is worth doing.” Pete shrugged and Mikey couldn’t hold back a short laugh.

“I’ll print it in a moment.” 

“Why do you even have a bed in here? Is that like a new Z trend, and in that case, how do I get transferred?” Pete said and nodded towards the mattress. 

“I think you’d have to degrade yourself to like, Administrative Support Secretary Alternate or something.” Mikey snickered. “But it’s only temporary because Ryan made Gabe work like crazy the whole weekend. Sadly, ‘cause it’s actually kind of nice. You should try it.” 

“Anything that can keep me away from those two workaholics back there.” Pete mumbled and dumped down next to Mikey, who was searching for the list of interested magazines that Gabe had mailed him the previous week. 

“We should definitely invest in mattresses.” Pete determined. 

“Asher would kill us. Do you think I can reach the printer from here?” Mikey said as the printer spewed out the list Pete had asked for. 

“She’ll most likely do it one of these days anyways, and I’d rather die comfortably.” Pete responded with a thoughtful nod. 

Mikey maneuvered himself far enough to the left that he could accurately reach the printer on the table without getting up from the mattress, but stopped in the middle of moving when loud yelling sounded from outside the door to the office. It took Mikey less than a second to decide that the voices definitely belonged to Gabe and Vicky. 

“What’s this supposed to be? And that?” She roared, and it wasn’t hard to guess that she had discovered what Gabe had done to the walls. 

“Innovative system and overview.” Gabe replied smugly, and she made a scary noise that was probably audible throughout the whole building. 

“I hope you’re comfortable because I think that day is today.” Mikey rolled his eyes, just as the door was slammed up and an – as always – furious looking General Manager stood in the doorway with an – as always – way too satisfied looking Gabe right behind her. 

“Your secretary is redecorating our _entire_ hallway system with our very valuable copies of the winter collection and you’re-“ She started, but stopped abruptly when she spotted Mikey and Pete on the floor, and her eyebrows flew upwards. “You’re having a _sleepover_ in his office?” 

“Maybe they were tired.” Gabe suggested slyly from behind her. “That’s not uncommon when you’re around.”

“You have a bed in here, you have _everything_ on the walls, you have unfinished furniture stacked away in every possible corner-“ She reeled off while counting on her fingers. “I have never seen anything as unprofessional as Department Z under your management.”

She pointed towards Mikey, who had remained fairly calm under her attacks so far. “I think we should make the beds permanent.” He just said quietly but firmly. 

“You _what_?” She spat, and then turned her attention to Pete, clearly expecting him to cut through this madness. 

“It’s actually kind of comfortable, Vicky, you should try it.” 

“This whole company is insane.” 

She turned violently around and shoved Gabe half-heartedly, as he was in her way out of his office, before disappearing down the corridor, presumably back to Ryan and her safe, minimalistic conference room that Pete had escaped from earlier. 

“One of your most admirable traits is how you manage to find _that_ many employees that hates each other _that_ much.” Gabe told Pete, who looked slightly windswept. 

“Did you want a hand with those copies?” Mikey asked, and helped Pete up from the floor, handing him the list before following Gabe down the corridor to the photocopier, that currently resided outside Franks door. 

“Gabe?” Mikey asked a few moments later, as he stood bent over the machine with a smaller stack of pictures in his hand. Gabe hummed in response from over at the room divider where he was keeping the papers he’d already copied. 

“What exactly _is_ this?” He held up a piece of paper that depicted an undefinable grainy picture. 

“That would be my boobs.” Gabe shrugged casually. 

“Now I’m not an expert on the subject, thank god, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have any.” Mikey frowned. 

“No – but if I photocopy them like that it looks like I do. Also, if you’re not interested in my further anatomy, you probably shouldn’t look at the other one that’s lying there. I’m going to pin them to Becketts door later.”

It only took them a few more hours before all Ryans stacks of copies were finally finished, placed in even stacks that even Vicky couldn’t complain about, and ready to be sent down to the conference room where Vicky and Ryan were currently tormenting Pete with the planning of the fashion show. And Mikey even made it through said hours without accidentally seeing those pictures of whatever part of Gabes body he’d photocopied, which was just as much of an achievement considering how many times Gabe tried to show them to him. Mikey had to remind himself a few times that he could’ve gotten worse secretaries.

Gabe retreated to his mattress for a well-earned lunch-break nap, while Mikey carried the first stack of paper down towards the conference room. He almost forgot to knock, since he’d basically stopped doing so whenever he had errands in Petes office – which mostly included baked goods – but in the last minute he remembered  that Vicky cared a lot about those kids of things, and Ryan might too. He didn’t need them to dislike him  more than they already did. 

“The complete winter collection.” He presented, as he dropped the stack on the large table that Vicky, Ryan, Pete, Beckett and three other people he didn’t know was seated around. There was a tough-looking man with a double nose-ring that sat next to Pete with a bored expression, and then two skinny dark-haired guys, sharply and a little better dressed than Ryan, and Mikey figured that they were probably also from the Fashion Department since they sat on each their side of the vice-CEO.

“Thank you.” Ryan said with a quick smile. As far as Mikey knew, he never said much, and it was a genuine mystery to him how a silent guy could run a whole department plus the entire company whenever Pete for whatever reason wasn’t able to. 

“This is Mikey, he leads Department Z.” Pete explained to the ones that Mikey hadn’t met yet. He noticed that by the mention of his department Vicky rolled her eyes discreetly and he tried to not let it obviously delight him. If he didn’t watch out he’d get all Gabe-y. 

“This is Brian, who leads the Technical Department and PR downstairs-“ Pete started and the pierced man nodded at him with friendly eyes and Mikey instantly liked him. “And that’s Brendon, our talent scout, and Spencer, the Fashion Manager. They’re the main masterminds behind the fashion show.” 

The two dark-haired guys nodded at Mikey as well, the one sitting closest to Ryan looking a little sheepish, the other one mostly just proud. 

“And the list of magazine ads?” Ryan asked, as if that had been Mikeys responsibility. 

“Shit, I forgot that in the printer. I’ll get it, don’t worry.” Pete exclaimed before hastily getting up from his chair. Mikey thought it was pretty easy to see through his lousy cover-up and figure that he needed another break from the conference room, and Mikey could imagine that they’d do fine without him. He accompanied Pete out of the room. 

“I’m going to have a meltdown.” He declared, slightly out of breath as soon as they were out of hearing range from the conference room. “It’s like sitting in the middle of a war-negotiation – I think Vicky and Ryan mostly just argues because they can.” 

Mikey gave him an empathic nod before heading down towards Gabes office where they’d printed the list that same morning, but Pete stopped him. 

“I have the list.” He said and patted his inner pocket. “It’s my beloved escape. We could use some spare-folders though, for all that paper, y’know.” 

“Whatever you say.” Mikey mumbled and turned in direction of the elevator.

“Y’know, why don’t you just talk to him? He’s pretty funny.” Mikey suggested while studying how his jacket was hanging loose on his shoulders in the mirror of the elevator, cursing his skinny frame. 

“I don’t know.” Pete said and looked at his shoes. “I’ve never just, like, sat down and talked to someone I liked.” 

“Talking is awkward, but proposing in a storage room at 11 am on a Wednesday is cool?” Mikey snickered with a cocked eyebrow. “You’re far out.” 

“Yeah, I don’t go on a lot of dates.” 

“Me neither, but like, just go ask him how his crossword is going or whatever. Start a conversation.” Mikey explained. “It’s not that hard.”

Mikey had agreed to wait outside the door to Patricks office, and in case he sensed that there was painfully dragged out silences from in there, he could walk in and demand Petes presence on the top floor. He didn’t even reach to think about doing so, though, because Pete came out of the office about thirty seconds later with his arms full of spare folders and a puzzled expression. Somehow Mikey was pretty sure that his advice had been a massive failure. 

“Bob Bryar was in there.” Pete hissed and quickly walked down the dim corridor back towards the elevator. “They were playing cards and drinking coffee. I think he hates me.” 

“He’s not exalted about you, that for sure.” Mikey agreed as he tried keeping up with Pete, who was walking an incredibly high pace compared to Mikey, considering that Mikeys legs were approximately twice as long. He’d always felt weird about looking down at his authorities, from about the day at age thirteen where he grew taller than his mom and getting reprimanded by her became less scary, but then again it was limited how much he considered Pete an authority. He was more like a slightly purposeless piece of Clandestine inventory that drifted around the offices, creating his own intrigues and staying as far away from responsibility and hard work as possible. 

“So what now?” Mikey finally asked when they’d entered the elevator. 

“Donuts?” Pete suggested hopefully. 

“On you, this time.” Mikey determined and Pete shrugged and pressed the downwards button.

“This is addictive.” Pete complained, sitting at the edge of a table in the bakery, licking yellow icing of his fingers. “With the blink of an eye I’ll be four hundred pounds.” 

“Then we’ll just have to put an out of order sign on the elevator. You’ll lose it all again with all your little trips to storage and supply.” Mikey shrugged before shoving most of an entire powdered donut in his mouth himself. 

“True.” Pete nodded. “I should probably get back before Vicky sends a mobile task force out to find me.” 

“I thought she _was_ a mobile task force.” Mikey said with a grimace, and Pete laughed so hard he almost knocked over a cold cup of coffee that had been standing on the table when they arrived.

The rest of the people in the conference room had decided to take their lunch break when they returned, and Pete seemed almost relieved to find the large room empty, except for Beckett and Brian from Technical who were still packing up their stuff. He sat down in his chair and exhaled heavily, grabbing the nearest half cup of coffee and taking a long sip of it. 

“Mikey? Can I talk to you for a second?” Brian asked politely, and Mikey was a bit taken aback by his request, considered that they’d never really spoken before, but he followed him none the less out the room. 

“We need to book a location for the fashion show, and I’ve picked three that I really like, but I need someone to settle it with the owner, set the exact date and get a crew to look at lighting and music.” He explained quickly, and Mikey nodded, knowing that within the next few minutes a new load of work would be on his shoulders. “I’ve heard that you’re the man for that kind of stuff.” 

On the other hand, it didn’t say Project Planner on his CV for nothing. “Sure, can you mail the addresses and phone numbers to Gabe, and I’ll take care of it before the weeks over.” He agreed, knowing that if Brian gave him the rest of the week, he’d have plenty of time to get it done, and maybe even visit Gabes mattress for a quick rest of his eyelids too. 

“That’s great. I’d do it myself, but I have my hands full with dealing with the magazines and the few billboard ads that we might get at the beginning of November.” He said with a thankful look, right as Pete and Beckett passed through the conference door, Pete still with someone else’s coffee clenched tightly in his hand. Apparently – and despite the fact that he was probably the least productive member of Clandestines staff – this was really exhausting him.

*

Mikey had hoped that he wouldn’t run in to Vicky alone and defenseless for the next couple of days, but he should’ve probably taken his non-existent luck into account, because he’d barely stepped out the elevator doors the next day before she was standing in front of him, clearly with something important to say. 

“I need to speak to you.” She announced. 

“Go ahead.” Mikey shrugged as he walked past her towards his office and she determinedly followed him closely. 

“I’d prefer my office.” She continued and Mikey shook his head. 

“Sorry. Department Z is going on a day trip. You can make an appointment with my secretary; he’d love to help you.” He said slyly, and couldn’t help but smile as he heard her sigh behind him. 

“First sleepovers and now day trips – do you think this is a kindergarten, Way?” 

“Sometimes.” Mikey mumbled with an eye-roll that she luckily didn’t see due to the fact that she kept walking a few steps behind him. “Could you get to your point, please, I’m a little busy.”

“Does anyone in your apartment know why our AA has pictures of various obscene body parts nailed to his door?” She asked harshly, and Mikey attempted to repress a laugh. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you ask him?” 

“I can’t find him, and it just _seemed_ like something that could have had its origin in your corridor.” 

Mikey just shrugged and opened the door to his office. 

The best part of it was that Mikey _knew_ that Beckett had been sitting in his office ever since they left the conference room yesterday, and he deliberately had chosen to let the pictures stay where Gabe had put them. Okay, maybe the best part of it was Vickys expression when he just sent her a lop-sided smile before closing the door, but it was a close race.

He found Gabe on his mattress, exactly where he’d left him the previous afternoon. 

“Why are you still here?” He asked and poked Gabe with his foot to wake him up, and he sat halfway up, squinting and looking at Mikey with a slightly disoriented gaze.

“ _Because,_ spending the night at the office makes me able to push waking up from 6:45 to about-“ He looked at his wrist, even though he wasn’t wearing a watch. “-now.” 

“You haven’t showered in three days, Gabe.” Mikey pointed out. 

“My natural odor is absolutely impeccable.” 

“You smell like ass.”

“You are what you eat.”

Mikey chose to ignore that comment and poked Gabe with his foot again. “Get up, we’re going downtown to look at some facilities for the fashion show.” 

“What? Where are we going?” He asked drowsily. 

“On an adventure.” Mikey rolled his eyes. “Get Frank and meet me in the basement in fifteen.”

The basement garage wasn’t huge, but they had managed to fit about twenty cars in there anyways, and Pete had borrowed Mikey the keys to an old Seat 1998 that was parked in the corner furthest away from the elevator door. He was checking out the vehicle when Frank arrived, dragging a complaining Gabe behind him, half-way buttoning his shirt and halfway trying to get a hold of his hair. 

“I’m driving!” Gabe he exclaimed as soon as he spotted the car. 

“It’s not a suicide mission.” Mikey reminded him and threw the keys at Frank who caught them with the hand he wasn’t currently holding onto Gabe with. He had slightly more faith in Franks driving skills as he was a family father with three kids, and Gabe was a reckless idiot with a teenage-complex. 

“Shotgun, then.” Gabe continued as Frank let go of him to get in the drivers seat. 

Frank had barely gotten inside before the smell of lighter-gas and cigarette smoke dominated the car, and Mikey hastily leaned forward from his space in the backseat and snatched the packet from on top of the dashboard where Frank had put it, to bum one. One thing was working side by side with these people for the entire day, but something else was being trapped in a tiny metal-shell with them. That could definitely cause serious stress, and to Mikey, the only medicine for that was thin and white and shaped like lung-cancer. 

“Here’s the address.” Mikey said and put a snippet of paper with an address scribbled out on it in Franks hand when he reached it backwards for Mikey to give him his pack of cigarettes. He planned on keeping those for a while.

Maybe Frank rarely drove with his kids, or maybe said kids just were in continual imminent danger whenever their dad picked them up from somewhere, because he was probably the most reckless driver Mikey had ever sat in a car with, and if Gabes driving skills could possibly be _worse_ than this, then Mikey had for once overestimated his talents. 

On the other hand, they reached their destination in the other end of San Francisco within fifteen minutes, as Frank didn’t bother with civilities such as traffic lights or speed limits. And when he parked outside the first of the locations Brian had told Mikey about, he just sat back in his seat with a satisfied expression and that trips nth cigarette dangling from his mouth, asking if he could wait in the car. 

“I need you to estimate how many people we need for setting up lights and speakers, sorry.” He said with a shrug and Frank sighed and followed Mikey and Gabe inside. 

They were greeted by a friendly owner, who had rented the facility out for plenty of fashion shows through the years, and knew a lot more about it than Mikey did.

He gave them a brief tour, showing them where they usually put up the catwalk, where the backstage rooms were located, where the technicians could set up their gear, and where bathrooms, emergency exits and stairways to the balconies where located. It didn’t take more than half an hour, but then they sat and discussed prices for a while, and ended up with one to their advantage. Mikey was more than satisfied with their visit, and promised the owner that he’d hear from them as soon as they’d checked out the other locations.

“If Brian has about seven or eight guys in Technical Department who can help setting up, then we can get it done within a day or two if we’re effective. There’s no need to hire someone from outside Clandestine to do that.” Frank concluded when they had paid their visits to the two other locations, that each were a lot alike the first. Mikey had liked the second one the most though, pretty much entirely based on its neighborhood, and he’d call the owner as soon as they got back to Clandestine.

“Yo, Mikey!” Joe yelled across the lobby when they arrived, and Mikey pretended that he wasn’t busy and went over to the counter. “I had customers today.” 

“Really?” Mikey asked. “What did they want?” 

“They were journalists.” Joe explained proudly. “And they asked when and where the show was held – you guys upstairs better publish the date before they figure it out themselves.” 

“We haven’t even _set_ a final date yet.” Mikey sighed. He’d never in his life had to deal with the press before, but apparently Clandestines show was bigger than first expected, and they’d have to take that in account as well. 

“A whole other thing, what’s the word? You have sleepovers with our CEO?” Joe grinned and lifted his hand. “High five on _that_.” 

Mikey left him hanging and frowned. “What?”

Joe just winked at him.

“Did you by any chance talk to Joe recently?” Mikey asked Gabe in the elevator on the way up to fifth floor, where they’d have to tell Brian and the rest of the conference room about their visits at the locations. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gabe said innocently, and Mikey didn’t take the subject further because as soon as they stepped out of the elevator, they were met by Pete and Beckett that had just exited Becketts office. Mikey only got a short glimpse of the pictures that was still nailed to his door, but he sensed that Vickys offence was at least remotely reasonable. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” Beckett said to Gabe. 

“You didn’t have to, that’s why I left you souvenirs.” He replied and gestured towards Becketts door. Mikey stopped paying attention to the two of them afterwards, as they made their way back inside, supposedly to talk about some taxes that Mikey was pretty sure didn’t exist.

“We found a location.” Mikey announced. 

Pete sent Mikey an acknowledging nod, just as Frank spotted Brian at the end of the corridor they were standing in, and headed down to discuss the technical issues with him. 

“That’s awesome, then we can publish the date soon.” He said, sounding kind of relieved, before changing the topic completely. “I’m on my way down to third floor. If Bob isn’t still down there I’m going to talk to him. Like, for real.”  

“That’s – that’s good.” Mikey replied with a grin, and patted Petes shoulder before making his way towards Brian and Frank to get in on the details with their plans.

*

“So, is it a girl or a boy?” Their mom asked, as she was sitting with her hand on Lindseys steadily growing stomach in the couch. Mikey was sitting in one of their armchairs, decorated with a knitted blanket in strong colors, sipping at an antique looking cup of coffee. If they actually made beds in their offices a permanent thing, he should definitely ask his brother for assistance in acquiring blankets for them since this was the most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on.

“We didn’t want to know.” Gerard replied with a huge smile plastered to his face. It had been there non-stop for the last seven months, and it was like a happy-pill to Mikey to just be around him. “We have gender-neutral everything so far.”

“How did the last scanning go?” Their mom continued, and she and Lindsey quickly got involved in a long conversation about the nurses and hospital beds and pre-birth therapy and things like that, and Mikey followed his brother outside on his tiny balcony for a cigarette break. 

“I didn’t think you smoked.” Gerard pointed out, but handed Mikey his lighter none the less. 

“It’s a stress thing, I guess. We have a lot to do.” He shrugged, and his brother slapped him lightly over the back of his head. 

“Idiot. You die.” 

“Says you.” Mikey shot back, and Gerard left the subject alone. 

“So how’s it going, y’know, with the show and stuff?” He asked instead, and Mikey was surprised that he’d gotten that much out of their chaotic phone calls. 

“It’s going forwards. We’ve found a location, and the date is late December, our magazine ads and billboards gets published November 1st.” Mikey said, and he noticed he had a great deal of pride to his voice. Maybe he was fonder of Clandestine than he’d thought he was. 

“Shit, that’s in three days Mikey. Well done!” He stroked Mikeys arm, and Mikey smiled. 

“I also have the feeling that my secretary is dropping subtle hints around that I’m sleeping with my boss.” Mikey added, looking down at his hands on the rail. 

“Well, are you?” Gerard asked with a sly grin. “It’s a while since I’ve heard anything from you about things like that.”

“ _No_. I’m helping him courting our storage guy.” Mikey said, sounding slightly offended. 

“We’ll, tell me if you find someone.” Gerard ordered, and Mikey laughed. 

“I couldn’t keep quiet if I tried.” 

They went back inside, and Gerard put snacks on the table while Lindsey told about the baby kicking, and Mikey sat back in his chair, enjoying the company. His brother’s place was the most homely and comfortable thing he could imagine, and whenever they invited him and their mom over for dinner, it was a sacred evening.

*

As soon as it became November and Clandestine started advertising in various fashion magazines as well as on a couple of billboards around San Francisco, Pete held a press conference where more than a handful of journalists showed up, and he published the exact date for the fashion show which had fallen on December 20th, as well as the address for the show. 

Vicky was sitting by his side as he delivered the messages and a couple of cameras were pointed towards them, and Mikey were standing on the sideline with his arms crossed, watching the whole scenario. They were attractive people, and definitely used to being in the spotlight, and they’d look good on a TV-screen. He admired their ability for not panicking and stuttering and sweating as soon as someone pointed a camera lens towards them, because if he’d ever have to sit through a press conference, it would be embarrassing for everyone involved.

“How was that?” Pete asked as soon as they left the conference room where the press conference had been held and Vicky took care of showing the journalists and camera men back to the elevator. 

“You did awesome.” Mikey praised, and Pete seemed relieved. 

“I was nervous as _shit_.” He admitted. 

“Wouldn’t have guessed that.” Mikey said as they made their way down the corridor. “Coffee?” He asked as they passed the monstrous coffee-maker that had been put up in a small niche in the wall. 

“I’ve only ever held one press conference before, and that was back when we started this whole thing up.” Pete told and took the cup Mikey handed him, leaning on one of the glass walls. “Almost no one showed up. They hadn’t heard of us and we weren’t interesting.” 

“Well you got the hang of that. The place was _packed_ – it’s going to be huge.” He reminded, and Pete nodded but still seemed a little uneasy. 

“I’m just a little nervous, I guess.” He shrugged. “And a little stressed. We’ve never had this much to do, ever.”

After the media started taking interest in their upcoming events, it didn’t exactly become easier to get any practical work done. It affected Mikey too, even though he wasn’t as big of a part of the practical work, and mostly stayed around the office for various things that needed to be done there. Frank was out of the house every other moment with Brian and the guys from Technical Department, either they had to go look at what kind of materials would be best for the catwalk, or go measure at the location how much of it they needed, or carry lights and monitors or other hard physical work that Mikey had no interest in taking part in. 

Ryan, Brendon and Spencer was sitting isolated in another and remarkably smaller conference room further down the same corridor, planning out which outfits should be placed where and when in the show, as well as picking out the models that Brendon had contacted. Mikey hadn’t seen either of them for _days_ , and he was starting to suspect that they only ever came out of there to pick up cups of coffee. No wonder the three of them were so skinny. 

Vicky mostly dealt with the press that had started showing up on every imaginable hour of the day to get photos or interviews or whatever, and it was a universal relief around fifth floor that she had someone else to let her anger out on than her co-workers.

“I have these maximum budgets for technical expenses that Brian needs a copy of as fast as possible – the last thing we need are bills that we can’t possibly pay.” Beckett said and handed Mikey a small stack of paper. “I’m already starting to work on the annual accounts, and it looks like we’ve stayed within the budget this year so there’s no major changes in this.” 

He patted the papers in Mikeys hands, and Mikey just nodded understandably. 

“I’ll mail Frank a copy, he’s downtown with Brian.” 

“You’re the man.” Beckett said with a tired grin before heading back inside his office. Mikey tilted his head and looked at the images on his door with a squint. How Gabe even had managed to get himself in an angle to photocopy _that,_ was a mystery.

Mikey was taking a well-earned break around lunch, sitting on Franks desk with a crumbled cigarette between his fingers when someone knocked the door, and a moment later Pete stuck his head inside. 

“If Vicky ever sees that, Department Z will shut down faster than any of us can say healthy environment.” He pointed out as he stepped inside, gesturing towards Mikeys cigarette. “Please, for the love of God, let me bum one.” 

Mikey wanted to say something along the lines of that it wasn’t him who had started it, but before the words reached his mouth he remembered that it didn’t really matter. Pete broke the silence first anyways. 

“Why are you always in everyone else’s offices? You're hard to find.”

“Because my office is currently a mini-IKEA, since Frank, who’s the only one with a manual to that thing, is out of the house.” 

“It can’t be _that_ hard to put together.” Pete crossed his arms, getting a bit of ash on his pants. 

“You’re more than welcome to try.” Mikey said with a lop-sided smile. “Good luck with that, you’re gonna need it.”

Mikey hadn’t really counted on that Pete would actually take him up on it, but none the less a few minutes later he was standing in Mikeys office with a lonely rod in his hand and a screwdriver in the other. 

“If this one goes here…” He mumbled to himself and tried fixing the part in his hand to one lying on the floor. “Then that one would go here.” 

Mikey watched for a while with a hand on his hip and an amused expression, as Pete kept doing it wrong and taking it all apart again.

“D’you need a hand?” He asked finally, and Pete just looked up at him with a glare. 

None the less he sat down next to Pete and grabbed a couple of parts himself, trying to figure out what angle they had to be attached to each other in to make sense, and it was harder than it looked. It took him less than ten minutes to give up completely and put all his faith in that Frank would get it done whenever he came back from helping Brian with the set-up and had a hole in his schedule. 

Pete was slightly more persistent and it took him at least three times as long as Mikey to give up, but after picking up every single loose part in Mikeys entire office and trying to fix them together, he waved out his arms in a partly annoyed, partly resigned gesture. 

“This requires some kind of magic powers that I do not possess.” Pete declared and stared down at all the spare parts that now was lying all over the floor, the desk and the small table in the corner instead of just stacked neatly on top of the desk. Mikey almost missed Franks sense of system by then. 

“You tried.” Mikey said comfortingly, already searching for another cigarette in his inner pocket, handing Pete one as well. After all, it was a very stressful period of time they were in.

“So how’s it going with Patrick?” Mikey asked as they were sitting in the middle of the mess they’d made, small strings of smoke emerging from them and spreading underneath the ceiling. 

“Awesome. We talk a lot, and he’s actually really funny when you get to know him.” Pete exclaimed with a grin. 

“That’s what I said.” Mikey rolled his eyes but smiled. 

“But I think I might have misjudged the whole situation.” He frowned. 

“How?” 

“I don’t think we should date after all.” Pete said and then got a slightly surprised facial expression, as if saying it out loud was something completely different than thinking it. 

“I think that’s what he’s been trying to tell you for a while now.” Mikey added carefully. 

“No but like, I think we’d make better friends.” Pete said, still frowning and looking thoughtful. Mikey suspected that he was using his entire brain capacity at thinking about it. “Besides, I think he’s secretly head over heels for Bob. I mean, how much can you love playing cards just for the sake of playing cards?” 

Mikey let out a laugh. “Well, considering how much solitaire that’s played on this floor, I’d say a lot.” 

“No, that’s the point.” Pete exclaimed and looked like he’d just had a minor revelation. “We play cards this much for the sake of not working, Patrick plays cards that much for the sake of Bob staying around.” 

Mikey was about to say that Pete actually had a pretty good point in there somewhere, but before he got around to it, someone knocked his door aggressively. 

“Pete? _Pete_?” Vickys voice called, muffled from the closed door that was in between them. “Are you in there?” 

“ _Shit._ ” Mikey mumbled, before handing Pete his cigarette and getting up from the floor. “Do something about these – anything.” 

Pete looked slightly terrified as Mikey walked over and casually opened the door, only a few inches, and stared out in Vickys agitated face through the narrow chink. 

“I can’t find Pete. Ryan needs him to look through the orders of the outfits and approve of them. Is he in there?” She asked, and Mikey shot a quick glance backwards, where Pete hastily was putting out the cigarettes against the back of Mikeys desk, so the marks it left wouldn’t be too obvious. For a moment, he cursed himself for not bringing the ashtray from Franks office when they left it. 

“Uh, yeah, just a moment.” Mikey assured, before Pete showed up behind him and Mikey opened the door completely. 

Vicky sent a disapproving look at the chaos on the floor. “What have you been doing?” 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Pete shrugged before making his way past Mikey out in the corridor, almost colliding with Gabe, that was on his way from Becketts office to his own, sporting sex-hair and wrinkled clothes as usual. Vicky sent a disapproving look in his direction too, just for the sake of it. 

“That’s what worries me.” She frowned. “Ryan needs your help.”

“No, but really, what _were_ you doing in there?” Gabe asked curiously when Vicky and Pete had left them alone. 

“Smoking, trying to put the rest of the room divider together, discussing Petes visits on third floor.” Mikey shrugged. 

“That’s what they all say.” Gabe dismissed, and tried straightening out his hair. “So, is he getting some down there?” 

Mikey shook his head. “Nope.” 

“Are you?” He asked and winked at him. 

“What? _No._ ” Mikey sighed. 

“Well you slip by there every morning – how would I know what you’re doing in those twenty minutes?” Gabe shrugged innocently. “Maybe there was a reason that Petes escapades downstairs wasn’t successful.” 

“Yeah. He’s called Bob.” Mikey pointed out. 

“Wait, the caretaker? Bob _Bryar_?” Gabe gawked and Mikey couldn’t help but giggle. “That was new.”

*

The most of the rest of November was day after day of hour-long meetings, discussions about how the actual event should unfold, planning out the delivery of the clothes with Spencer, who had the couturiers on speed dial, calling Brian and Frank every other moment to hear how the set-up was coming along and writing endless amounts of mails to journalists and magazine editors as well as other departments of Clandestine. 

Mikey often felt like there were more than thirty hours in a day and that he was working in at least twenty of them, but considering the amount of empty coffee cups that was stacked on every empty surface and abandoned sheets of loose paper on the table of the conference room as well as everyone’s desk – maybe except his own – he definitely wasn’t the only one. 

It didn’t help _anyone_ , especially not Mikey who couldn’t drive, when San Francisco was hit by a few intense-but-not-dangerous storms in the beginning of December, that caused the bus system to shut down completely for a while. He had to spend the night at the office a couple of times when it got particularly late and he couldn’t catch a ride with someone, and he thanked the lords for the fact that Gabe hadn’t gotten around to moving the mattress from his office for like a month. Sometimes his laziness was a blessing.

“Brendon and Spencer is meeting up with the models tomorrow to let them know who’s wearing what and who’s walking when.” Gabe explained loudly as he entered his office where Mikey was still lying underneath the thin blanket. It was it moments like these when he would’ve really liked one of those thick, colored blankets that Gerard had knitted. “When that’s done, there’s not much to do until the techs are done setting up and we can all get down to the location.” 

“So what do we do from now on?” Mikey mumbled drowsily and sat up. 

“Well since I’m nothing but a simple secretary in Vickys eyes, _I_ have to write reports on all of this, and since she doesn’t like your work-ethics, _you_ have to go pick up the first load of clothes and deal with the couturiers.” Gabe explained, clearly dissatisfied with Vickys orders. 

“But I can’t drive, and the buses are down.” Mikey pointed out. 

“Yeah I tried telling her that, but guess if she listened to me.” Gabe complained and dumped down behind his desk, turning on his computer. “I guess you just have to find someone who can drive you.”

Mikeys first thought was Frank, but considering that he was probably in the middle of setting up a catwalk and appertaining lamps, screens and monitors, he probably wouldn't be exalted if Mikey called him to ask if he could drive him around town. 

His second thought was Joe, who would probably take off an hour or two to take Mikey to pick up the clothes, but when he came down to the lobby, it was packed with people who had various errands around the building, and Joe was sitting in the middle of it, giving people directions to wherever they needed to go. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to interrupt him either. 

When he went to ask Patrick, his office were empty and he was nowhere to be found, so Mikey figured that he either hadn’t arrived yet or maybe was having a day off.

He was back on fifth floor and running low on ideas when he ran into Pete at the coffee maker down the first corridor. 

“Why the long face?” Pete asked, and seemed in a better mood than he’d been in for a while. 

“I have to go talk to a couturier, and I can’t drive, the buses are down and literally everyone are too busy to go with me.” Mikey shrugged. 

“I can drive.” Pete said as if it was the most natural thing to ask the CEO to commence as chauffeur. 

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Mikey raised an eyebrow in Petes direction. 

“Probably, but I could also choose to just blatantly ignore that and escape this madhouse in a car.” 

“Touché.” Mikey said and started heading back towards the elevator with Pete right behind him.

The couturier was a douche, the boxes of clothes were heavier than they’d counted on, and the rain was pouring down as they tried to fit them in the trunk of Petes Mercedes, that looked a lot better in the parking basement than the old Seat 1998. All in all it was a pretty shitty trip, and Mikey didn’t complain when Pete pulled over at a small bakery on their way back to Clandestine.

“These aren’t as good as the ones from the bakery across the street.” Pete said with a sorry expression, but it still didn’t stop him from eating two whole donuts within five minutes. 

“True.” Mikey agreed through a mouthful of baked goods. “They’re still good though.” 

They had sat down at one of the little tables in their bakery with each their cup of coffee and a few donuts, since they were far away from their beloved coffee-maker at Clandestines fifth floor, and they could both use a serious shot of caffeine to make it through the rest of the day. Besides, coffee and donuts belonged together, if they were to trust any stereotype action-movie cop ever.

The only reason that Mikey even discovered that Christmas was coming closer and the stores was starting to explode in fake snow, elves and Christmas trees, was that him and Pete from then on, constantly was sent out to various couturiers to pick of new loads of clothes that they needed for the show. By now, those were some of the only times he even left the Clandestine building, as the bus transport still wasn’t up and running and sometimes there were no earthly way he could get home. 

He didn’t even remember the last time he’d had a proper meal in his own kitchen, not to mention a good night’s sleep, a long shower or a lazy Saturday afternoon spent on his couch. On the other hand – and despite constantly having too many things to do – he actually liked his job a lot, and there wasn’t anyone waiting for him at home anyways. 

It would’ve been different if he’d had a spouse, a kid or even a dog to come home to, but as long as the terraced house a bit outside of San Francisco was empty, it was almost nicer to fall asleep on the floor of Gabes office with his laptop across his thighs, and being woken up by Gabe arriving and poking Mikey with his feet, telling him what impossible tasks Vicky had burdened them with that day.

“I ought to buy my brother a Christmas present.” Mikey stated one afternoon as they were heading out to talk to yet another couturier. 

“What are you gonna get him?” Pete asked, sounding genuinely interested, and Mikey admired his ability to keep doing that after weeks of hard work. Mikey was pretty sure he was starting to sound pretty apathetic most of the time by now. 

“Well, him and his wife are having a baby soon, so baby-stuff would be obvious.” Mikey said. “I just know literally nothing about babies.” 

Pete hummed thoughtfully, before looking over at Mikey with a smug expression. Clearly he was having some sort of awesome idea. 

“Get this – I’m pretty sure that this guy were about to visit can produce pretty wonderful baby-clothes, and if you buy it through Clandestine you can probably get it for a reasonable price.” He explained, and Mikey sent him a thankful look. It actually was an awesome idea.

They arrived back at the car less than an hour later with two boxes of clothes for the show, and a bag of high-quality designer-rompers for Mikey, and made their usual pit stop at some little bakery they passed on their way home, filling up on donuts and coffee. Mikey was pretty sure that if any nutritionist ever looked at his daily routine, they’d have a heart attack, since ninety percent of his intake consisted of donuts, coffee and forbidden cigarettes.

*

The day before the day of the fashion show dawned, and Mikey was pretty sure that the rest of fifth floor – maybe even the entire building – had long ago reached Department Z’s usual level of chaos.

There was a slight delay on the setup, as some of the pillars that had to hold up the lamps hadn’t been delivered on time due to the storms, and the whole technical department was working with full force on getting it all up before the end of the day. 

Meanwhile, models, make-up artists and people from Fashion Management was running around the place, preparing the dress rehearsal, which was going to take place that same evening on the floor next to the catwalk. Vicky was standing in the middle of it all, yelling orders in every possible direction, and Ryan right next to her, pointing at things and mumbling things to her, and she made sure that whomever was in charge of whatever Ryan pointed at, were made aware that they were doing something wrong. Mikey had to admit that even though she was a pain in the ass, Clandestine would consist mostly of solitaire and coffee if she hadn’t been around.

Mikey and Gabe were standing in a corner of the huge hall, keeping an eye on everything that was going on, waiting for someone to spot them and make them do something productive. 

“I bet that guy needs help getting into whatever he’s wearing tonight.” Gabe said and pointed towards one of the male models that were in rapid conversation with one of the make-up artists. 

“If you’re lucky, he might need help getting out of it too afterwards.” Mikey said sarcastically, but Gabe seemed to think it was an amazing suggestion and headed in the model’s direction, leaving Mikey alone.

“Mikey!” He suddenly heard Vicky call, and he damned himself for not finding somewhere more out-of-the-way to kill time before making his way towards her. 

“I need you to drive back to Clandestine and check if there’s anything – _anything_ – we’ve missed, and in that case bring it back here.” She explained and Mikey sighed. It was incredible how many times she managed to include the words ‘Mikey’ and ‘drive’ in the same sentence, considering it was one of the only things she could ask of him that he was unable to do. 

“Sure.” He just nodded, and looked in the general direction that Gabe had disappeared in minutes ago, but he was already gone. So was the male model. Mikey crossed his arms.

He ended up wandering around the hall for a while, looking for someone that looked like they didn’t have anything particularly important to do, but a person like that was absolutely impossible to find on a day like this. He ended up being hijacked by Frank who needed his help holding onto a ladder while he put up lamps on the pillars that had finally arrived.

He spent the rest of the day doing small jobs that didn’t require endless physical strength for the techs, and when he finally escaped to take a small coffee-and-cigarette-break, the sun had long gone down and they were about to start the rehearsal show in the other end of the hall. 

He spotted Pete, standing over by the rehearsal catwalk, that wasn’t really anything except two lines on the floor drawn with chalk, and went over to stand next to him. 

“This is more crowded than Walmart on a Sunday afternoon.” Pete sighed and Mikey just nodded. 

“They sent me back to the office.” He stated. 

“When?” Pete looked up at him. 

“Hours ago. But I got caught up by the techs and didn’t get further.” Mikey shrugged. 

“Do you need a driver?” It was a leading question, and Mikey just smiled and nodded again.

In his short time working for Clandestine, Mikey had never experienced the building as empty as it was when they arrived, as every single employee was back at the location for the fashion show. Not even the times he’d spent the night in Gabes office had it been this quiet, there had always been someone somewhere down a corridor who’d arrived early or something like that. Now, it was completely deserted. 

“What could she possibly have forgotten? She remembers _everything_ , that’s like one of her main character traits.” Pete exclaimed as they stepped out of the elevator. 

“I’m starting to suspect she was just tired of having me hanging around.” Mikey replied. “But I’m not complaining, I mean, I could use a cigarette without anyone interrupting me.” 

“That’s a very valid point.” Pete agreed, and they made their way towards Franks office, where there was an ashtray and the floor wasn’t covered in parts of the room divider. 

They sat side by side on Franks desk with each their cigarette, enjoying the silence, since neither of them had been around less than ten people for the past few weeks, and Mikey could almost feel how he was stressing down. 

“When all of this is over-“ Pete started, but was cut off by a yawn, and Mikey couldn’t help but snicker silently. “-I’m gonna go out, get hammered, then fucked, then carried home and then I’m gonna sleep for three weeks, at _least_. Straight through Christmas.” 

“That’s how I been living my weekends for like, a year.” Mikey cringed. “Without the Christmas part and the fucked part, though.” 

Pete cocked an eyebrow at him and Mikey just shrugged in response. He might have his career going for him, but his love-life had pretty much been on stand-by since his last girlfriend moved out, despite his drunken attempts to resuscitate it. 

“Are you seriously sitting there, telling me, that you haven’t gotten laid in a year?” Pete said doubtfully. “I’m not buying that.” 

“You’ll be amazed.” Mikey just said and took one last drag of his cigarette before putting out in the ashtray between them. 

“But – you’ve got to be like, a catch.” Pete argued, still sounding like he didn’t really believe Mikey. 

“A busy catch.” Mikey shot back with a half-laugh. 

“Huh.” Pete huffed and half-smiled back. “You’d have to do it in your smoke breaks then.” 

Mikey wasn’t stupid – or maybe he was, because this was his boss and Mikey was painfully sober and still at work, but either way he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Petes, smiling as he felt a hand on his inner thigh.

“I think I’d need longer smoke breaks.” He mumbled, halfway into Petes mouth, and he only just reached to feel his warm breath on his face and warm hand up his leg before the sound of Mikeys phone broke through the silence in Franks office.

Mikey damned personalized ringtones to hell, because when he knew it was his brother who called by the old song by the Smiths that he’d picked out for when Gerard called him, he couldn’t just ignore it. If it had been any other person in the world, he probably would have turned it off and thrown it in a corner of the room and turned his full attention back to his breathless boss that was sitting in front of him, but it wasn’t. It was Gerard.

So Mikey sent Pete an apologetic look and dug his phone out of the pocket of his jacket. 

“Mikey! It’s happening.” His brother roared as soon as Mikey had picked up. His words were a little ragged and full of panic, and it took Mikey a moment to adjust from the previous silence to his tone of voice. 

“What’s happening? Gerard, wha-“ 

“The _baby_!” Gerard just yelled, and suddenly Mikey noticed a lot of noise behind Gerard, as if he was moving around really quickly. 

“ _Now_?” Mikey said, feeling how adrenaline started shooting through his body. 

“ _Yes, now_!” Mikey could imagine Gerard cringing at him even through his state of sheer terror. 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Mikey assured and the last thing he heard before he hung up was Lindsey shouting in the background. 

“What’s happening?” Pete asked with a concerned frown as Mikey dropped the phone back down in his pocket. 

“My brother’s wife is in labor.” Mikey said, in a much higher pitched voice than he was planning on. “I need to get to the hospital.” 

“Do you need a ride?” Pete asked carefully, and Mikey looked at him. 

“It’s fine, I can take the bus.” Mikey dismissed. “You have a fashion show rehearsal to run.” 

“Mikey, the bus isn’t driving.” Pete said with a small smile, seeming slightly amused by Mikeys disorientation. “And I don’t know if you caught it, but I wasn’t really planning on getting back to that rehearsal anytime soon. Come.” 

He pulled Mikey off the desk, and held onto his arm as he guided him through fifth floor and all the way down through the lobby, into the parking basement and settled him in the passenger seat of his Mercedes. 

“I’m an uncle.” Mikey just mumbled. “They’re having a baby, right now.”


	3. House Of Cards

They were met in the parking lot of the hospital by a beaming Gerard with traces of tears down his cheeks, and he went right over and put his arms around Mikey.

“It’s a girl.” He mumbled into Mikeys shoulder, giggling a little. “We have a baby girl.”

“How is she? Both of them, actually.” Mikey asked, and Gerard looked up at him.

“They’re perfect, and absolutely gorgeous.” He smiled, and Mikey could feel himself bubbling with happiness the more he looked at his brother.

When they let go of each other, Mikey remembered Pete, who had been standing beside the heartfelt reunion between Mikey and his brother, looking a little sheepish and maybe slightly uncomfortable.

“This is Pete.” Mikey presented, gesturing towards his boss. “I was, uh, with him when you called and he offered to drive me here.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about you.” Gerard said and they quickly shook hands before the three of them made their way back into the hospital.

“There’s my girls.” Gerard said quietly as they entered the maternity ward where Lindsey was sitting in a bed, all wrapped up in white sheets and looking tired, but continuously smiling down at the little girl residing in her arms, wrapped in the same sheets.

Pete stood discreetly in a corner of the room, as Mikey made his way to the bed and his sister-in-law and niece, sitting down at the edge of the bed and first giving Lindsey a careful hug before stroking the newborn across her cheek with the tip of his finger.

“She’s so small.” He just stated, and despite her worn-out state, Lindsey couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“That’s easy for you to say, you didn’t just give birth to her.” She pointed out and Mikey smiled.

“Well, you did good. She already looks like you.”

“That’s what I said.” Gerard chimed in from the other side of the bed. “She wouldn’t listen.”

“What are you going to name her?” Mikey asked then.

“Honestly, we have no idea.” Lindsey answered with a quick laugh. “We had a handful of names planned out, but as soon as we saw her, none of them really fit.”

“We’ll figure it out soon enough.” Gerard shrugged.

“Who’s your friend there?” Lindsey looked up at Pete who was still keeping quiet.

“I’m Pete. I work with Mikey and drove him here.” Pete said, almost apologetic. Mikey couldn’t help but snicker inaudibly at his slight awkwardness.

“Come say hi.” Lindsey just waved him over to where they were all standing around her, and Pete carefully made his way towards the bed where he looked down at the baby girl.

“She’s beautiful.” He said to Lindsey after smiling down at her daughter, who had been steadily asleep since the three men arrived at the ward.

A couple of hours later, Mikey was sitting with his niece in his arms as Gerard was helping Lindsey getting washed a little in the bathroom. Pete was sitting next to him, constantly keeping an interested eye on the baby, who had woken up by now and was looking around with wide eyes and making small noises.

“Why are you still here?” Mikey asked all of sudden, and Pete looked up at him.

“Do you want me to leave?” Pete frowned.

Mikey considered that for a while. “No.” He finally concluded. “I’m just wondering. I can’t imagine that this is your ideal way of spending your evening.”

“Your family is nice. I also figured you could probably use the ride.” Pete shrugged, and Mikey smiled at him before looking back down at the baby.

“Thanks.”

When Gerard and Lindsey came back from the little bathroom attached to the ward, Pete was sitting with the baby, mumbling pieces or nursery rhymes at her while Mikey was watching the two of them with a sleepy expression, leaning his head on the wall behind him.

“Mom is coming first thing in the morning. You can go home and sleep now.” Gerard pointed out when he spotted Mikey, slouching in his chair.

“S’fine.” Mikey mumbled, as Gerard helped his wife back into the bed.

“Don’t you have a fashion show tomorrow?” Gerard asked, and Pete suddenly looked up at him with wide eyes.  
“Shit, I almost forgot.” He cursed, and got up to give the calm baby back to Lindsey, who kissed her head and smiled at Pete. “Come, Mikey. I’ll drive you home.”

He once again had to almost drag Mikey towards his car, but this time more because Mikey was numb with tiredness than because he was coping with the fact that his brother had become a dad.

“She’s adorable.” Mikey mumbled as he got into the passenger seat, and Pete reminded him to put on his seatbelt. In a short moment, he was thankful that it was Pete that was driving him and not Frank, since the last thing he had energy left for doing at the moment was worrying about his general safety.

“She really is.” Pete agreed as he pulled out of the parking lot and towards the highway. “What’s your address?”

“God, that’s like in the other end of town.” Pete sighed as Mikey told him.

“Why do you think I live in Gabes office.” Mikey slurred and Pete laughed at him for a while.  Afterwards, it got quiet in the car and Mikey assumed that it was because they were both too tired to keep up any kind of conversation, at least until Pete broke the silence.

“Mikey?” He asked carefully, and Mikey slowly turned his head to look at him. Petes eyes were still on the road, but he looked worried.

“Yeah.” Mikey just replied.

“I don’t want you to think I just go ‘round hitting on all my employees.” He explained with a sigh.

“I don’t think that.” Mikey mumbled.

“Thanks.” Pete nodded, and then the silence took over again.

Back at his own house, he fumbled with his keys for a minute before getting the door open, and Pete followed him inside.

“I have a couch you know.” He suggested casually. “If you’re gonna drive home from here you’re not gonna get there before you have to leave again.”

“Really?” Pete asked, sounding slightly surprised.

“There’s already a blanket and a pillow lying there. It’s almost as good as the office bed. Make yourself at home.” Mikeys smiled and gestured towards his living room where everything was starting to get dusty as he spent so little time in there.

When he’d gone to bed, he lay awake for a while, listening to the almost inaudible sound of Pete shifting and turning on the couch, and for a minute he considered going in there and asking Pete if he wanted to sleep in the bed. Or sleep with Mikey. Or both.

He would’ve done it anyways, if Gerard hadn’t called him when they were at the office. He’d actually been about to do it, but then again, maybe it was stupid when it was his boss and they ran in and out of each other’s offices every other minute, and maybe it was lucky that Gerard had called him. It could all easily become weird otherwise in cases like that, except maybe for Gabe and William. But that was something else. Before he reached further in his stream of thoughts, he was sound asleep.

“So, all or nothing.” Pete said the next morning, as they sat at Mikeys dinner table with each their cup of instant coffee that was even worse than the ones they could get at Clandestine.

“Huh?” Mikey frowned, and put down the mug he’d been about to take a sip from.

“Y’know, with the show.” Pete explained as if Mikey were stupid. Maybe he was. “It better run smoothly tonight, or I’ll probably bury myself.”

“It’s’ gonna be fine, Christ, we’ve prepared this for _months_.” Mikey comforted.

“There’s like eight billion things that can go wrong.” Pete continued with a worried expression.

“They won’t.” He assured his boss. “You’ve got a set of amazing employees, even if they’re a little daft.”

“ _A little_.” Pete mumbled sarcastically and made air quotes. “But yeah. You’re probably right.”

They drove back to the location where they’d left all their co-workers the night before, and were met in the parking lot by Vicky, who looked like she hadn’t slept for three weeks and had just escaped an intensive mental institution.

“Where on _earth_ have you been?” She demanded to know as soon as she saw Pete and Mikey get out of the car.

“At the hospital.” Pete explained calmly and she just shook her head violently.

“Someone better have died or something, because we could’ve used your assistance both last night and this morning.” She thundered, and Pete looked like he was just about to say something, but gave up instead and followed Vicky inside the building. Mikey smoked one of his anti-stress-cigarettes before joining them.

The whole hall where the catwalk had been set up in was covered with chairs that the audience were going to use later, and Mikey had to admit that it was pretty admirable what the Clandestine crew had accomplished since he’d left last night. It was all starting to look pretty professional.

He spotted Gabe that was helping Frank putting up some string lights, looking highly dissatisfied with the fact that he had to do anything physical that didn’t involve any of the models. Frank grunted something at him, obviously annoyed as Mikey approached them.

“Where have you been all night?” Gabe said curiously and handed Mikey the piece of string light that he was holding on to. Mikey took it without further complaints. “We’ve been working non-stop all night. I think the bags under my eyes are becoming sacks.”

“At the maternity ward.” Mikey shrugged and couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Woah.” Gabe raised his eyebrows sarcastically. “You’ve been hiding your pregnancy well.”

“My brother and his wife had a daughter last night.” Mikey said.

“Congratulations.” Frank added from above them, where he was standing on a ladder with a string light around most of his body.

“If they ever need a nanny, Frank’s the man. He knows a thing or two about kids, since he has like a medium sized kindergarten at home already because he can’t keep it in his pants.” Gabe said and Frank casually threw a wrench in his direction, which Gabe almost avoided. Whatever, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it.

Later that afternoon, when there were enough string lights around the catwalk that it could easily outmatch most of San Francisco and it’s Christmas decorations, Frank and Mikey were sitting in one of the backstage rooms with cup noodles from a corner store nearby. Gabe had disappeared in the general direction of the models.

“You arrived in Petes car this morning.” Frank mentioned casually, and Mikey stopped moving with a forkful of noodles halfway up to his mouth. Frank wasn’t even looking at him – he just pulled a crumbled cigarette out from the inside of his jacket and tried lighting it before a officious looking make-up artist came over and told him to respect their environmental rules. Frank sent her an evil glare and mumbled something about cocaine flowing in every possible direction in the backstage rooms of every fashion show ever, but a simple cigarette was the end of the world. Mikey smiled amusedly at him. 

“He drove me to the hospital last night.” Mikey explained when Frank had finished expressing his anger towards the make-up artist that had long ago stopped paying attention to them. “It was too far for him to go home afterwards. He slept on my couch.”

“Just be glad that it was me and not Gabe who noticed it.” Frank grinned.

“Trust me. I am.” Mikey said with a roll of his eyes.

There were glasses of champagne in everyone’s hands and flashlights from expensive cameras everywhere, as people started arriving in fancy clothes and with supercilious looks, and as Pete stepped out on the catwalk in a glittery suit to welcome all the guests, Mikey felt slightly misplaced. He was standing behind a curtain at the beginning of the catwalk, next to Victoria, Ryan, Brian and the Fashion Department, watching as the models were getting ready behind them for their march down the catwalk in a few minutes. Most of them were fairly young, only about the age of Brendon, the talent scout who had recruited every single one of them, and he was more than a few years younger than Mikey. It was all new faces and hopeful people that were trying to make it in the fashion world, and Mikey sent some of them encouraging smiles as they made their way towards the entrance to the stage.

“It is my indisputable pleasure, after _months_ of intense work and preparations, to present to you, the very first – _Clandestine Winter Collection Fashion Show_!” Pete hollered from out on the catwalk before hurrying back behind the curtain to where the rest of the Clandestine Crew was standing.

Then, the lights were dampened and an electric remix of a pop-song slowly tuned in from the speakers as the first model, a young girl who looked terrified for a moment before putting on the emotionless expression that all models learn to bring to perfection, entered the catwalk.

Even though Mikey had seen most of these outfits on the walls of their corridor for weeks now, it only just hit him how eccentric Clandestines clothes really were. He’d probably never really had the time to study them closely until now, where they were officially out of his hands.

Most of them were in bright colors and neon, made out of fabric that reminded Mikey both of plastic and metal as well as some furry carpet his mom had owned in the mid-eighties. To Mikey, it was a mix of the most remarkable parts of every decade and their subcultures, and even though he found most of the clothes horribly ugly, it was definitely still a journey to watch.

He spotted some of the interested faces among the crowd and felt a strong sense of pride as he had been a part of creating the event. He then looked around at his co-workers and they all seemed to be filled with some of the same kinds of emotions as him, as the models conquered the catwalk one by one and kept the audiences eyes occupied. For a brief moment, it even looked like Vicky was smiling a little, and he came to the conclusion that they couldn’t really reach higher than to satisfy her, which in itself seemed pretty impossible at any other time than this, ever.

Afterwards, when the lights around the catwalk had died down, the audience was small-talking as they made their way towards the exit, where a few of the guys from Technical Department were standing, handing out small Clandestine Flyers.

The models were out in the back getting dressed down in their regular clothes and congratulating each other on a good show, and Mikey was standing with Frank next to some of the dressing rooms, while Gabe was most likely trying to convince some of the models that they most definitely needed help getting out of the odd clothes, somewhere else. Mikey couldn’t see him, at least, which usually meant that he was either getting laid or trying to avoid working.

“How do they manage to wear that for extended periods without struggling with breathing?” Frank pondered as a model walked by in a plastic thing that looked tighter than a Victorian corsage.

“No idea.” Mikey said and suddenly felt really comfortable in his oversized blazer and jeans. He’d started his career at Clandestine wearing discreet suits and putting a lot of effort in looking professional, but as he learned the jargon around the offices, he’d started leaving the suits at home and wearing more casual clothes that he could actually wear for eight hours in a row without feeling ridiculous. By now, everything else seemed like a bad idea.

*

The Fashion Show had fallen on a Friday, luckily since that meant more attendants than if it had been on a weeknight, but unfortunately that also meant that the entire Clandestine Crew had to show up at the office Saturday morning to evaluate.

Mikeys eyes were hanging halfway down his cheeks when he arrived, after spending half the night talking on the phone with his baby-struck brother while his wife and daughter were sleeping. The mattress looked suspiciously comfortable from his point of view, but Pete had ordered everyone with some kind of responsibility in the conference room, so that could wait until later.

It was himself, Pete, Ryan, Vicky, Beckett, Brian, Brendon and Spencer who sat down around the blank table in the room with the great view, and Mikey was almost blinded by how light it was in the conference room, compared to Department Z’s corridor where the copies of the outfits still hadn’t been taken down. But considering how much sleeping there was going on in Department Z, maybe the constant dimness was a plus.

“Anyone seen the reviews?” Pete started out, and Vicky immediately dropped a few thick magazines in the middle of the table with a thump. They were all opened and folded on the page where the reviews of current fashion shows and collections were written, and Pete, Ryan and Spencer each grabbed one and started reading.

“-innovative style and energy-“ Spencer read out loud, and the rest of the room nodded acknowledging.

“This one says the collection was interesting and creative.” Pete mumbled and looked up from his magazine.

“Here is a critic that didn’t like it.” Ryan mumbled.

“What did he say?” Pete asked curiously and Ryan started reading aloud about how the critic thought the show was too much and trying to mix up things that should be kept apart.

“That’s good. Negative response among the positive means there were enough controversy to annoy someone.” Vicky pointed out.

“Well I still liked it.” Pete said in the same instant, and Vicky sent him a look before continuing.

“We did an amazing job, so did the artists and the models, and on top of everything we got a lot of publicity out of it. They’ll be talking about this for a while. I say we repeat the whole event with the summer collection next year.”

There was some collective grunts and nods in agreement all around the table, and apparently that was all it needed to be settled.

“So, what now?” Brian asked from the corner of the table where he’d taken seat, being the one that had the least to do with the fashion itself, along with Beckett and Mikey.

“Now?” Vicky said, clearly being the most authoritarian person in the room. “I say that we take a few days off, at least until after New Year’s – and Mikey,”  
She turned to Mikey, who had been sitting quietly, thinking fondly about ‘a few days off’. “We usually throw a New Year’s party for the administration, but this time I suggest that we make it a little bigger and book a place for it, to celebrate the successful fashion show. I had in mind that you could be the man for that.”

Mikey sighed. “Sure. Are you thinking Friday, or-“

“Friday sounds awesome.” Pete cut in and Beckett nodded eagerly, closely followed by the others.

“I’ll take Gabe with me and go look at something.” He said, and she seemed satisfied by that.

“Then, if there’s no one else who has something to say, I think we all deserve a good weekend’s sleep.” She smiled quickly as they started getting up from their chairs and heading for the door of the conference room, some of them congratulating each other on a good show.

“So, are we done? Can I go home?” Gabe asked when Mikey arrived at his office. He had been supposed to look through some emails that Mikey hadn’t gotten around to in all his picking up clothes and eating donuts, but he was sitting on his chair, spinning around in between sending Mikey hopeful looks.

“Not quite.” Mikey sighed and sat down on his desk. Gabe spun around again.

“What did they make us do?”

“Arrange a New Year’s party for the whole Clandestine crew.”

Gabe immediately stopped spinning and crossed his arms. “That is _so_ not fair.”

“We just have to go look at a couple of clubs and book one of them for next Friday.” Mikey said, trying to calm him down.

“I swear to God I’m gonna quit one of the days.” Gabe claimed and Mikey nodded understandingly, knowing that Gabe could impossibly get another job with the same amount of solitaire and sex across a desk with the same salary. He was staying where he was. Luckily, because as Mikey liked to remind himself, he could have had worse secretaries.

Frank was nowhere to be found that morning, and that was probably a smart move from his side, since it meant that he was probably at home sleeping while Mikey would have to do with Gabe as chauffeur, which was a moment he’d feared for as long as he’d been at Clandestine.  
  
“Address?” Gabe asked reluctantly as he got behind the wheel, with Mikey in the passenger seat in a growing state of panic as he mumbled the address to Gabe who then turned on the car.

Contrary to Frank, at least Gabe acknowledged things such as traffic lights and other drivers, but that still didn’t change the fact that he was lurching violently and paying more attention to himself in the rearview mirror than to the actual road. Mikey held on to the dashboard for the sake of his life.

“Okay, so every year, we usually throw a party for the administration around New Year’s, where Pete dances a lot and very horribly, Vicky gets drunk and cries because she’s well aware that she’s a pain in the ass, and _I_ make out with people. And beware, _you’re_ next, probably.” Gabe explained with a grin, pointing at Mikey as he very inelegantly parked the car in front of the first club that Mikey had chosen, located not very far away from where the fashion show had been held.

 “Apparently, this time it’s the whole building.” Mikey added.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only _completely_ internally unkissed person at Clandestine. I feel like that’s my responsibility to some point, proudly being the most skanky person in the office and all.” Gabe continued and Mikey quickly got out of the car, suddenly being very interested in the cigarette he was about to light.

“So what do you think of this place?” Mikey asked instead, gesturing towards the entrance to the fancy-looking club.

“I think it’s good enough for us to just take it and go home and sleep instead of looking at the other ones, which we should’ve also done with the fashion show locations.” Gabe said thoughtfully and Mikey nodded. It was the first reasonable thing Gabe had said all day, and Mikey dug his phone out of his pocket to call the owner to settle date and time.

*

Mikey slept until late afternoon the next day, and he was still tired when he woke up. The first thing he did then was look for something to eat, which he didn’t get really far with because the only thing he had in his fridge was a sour gallon of milk and some tomatoes that had seen better days, so he only got around to making a pot of coffee.

It felt slightly weird to finally have an extended amount of time to spend in his own house, and he figured pretty fast that it was incredibly boring when he was used to having noisy people around him for twenty four hours a day. Strange enough, since he’d been an extreme introvert for his entire life, but maybe the right job could really change people.

He then cleaned for a while, starting out with moving the blanket and sheet from the couch where Pete had slept a few days ago, which he hadn’t even gotten around to doing yet, mostly due to the fact that he hadn’t really been home ever since.

Then, he spent a while vacuuming and removing the thick layer of dust that had settled on all his furniture through the past couple of months, and he ended the whole process with doing a huge load of laundry, so he would actually have clean shirts and jeans ready, the next time he had to go to work.

When he was done, he sat down in front of the TV with a glass of wine instead of his usual glass of whiskey or scotch, since he’d found the bottle he’d bought a couple of months ago was empty on his kitchen table. If Gerard had seen him in that moment, he would’ve probably laughed and pointed out how much Mikey looked like their mom, as if it was something he didn’t already know.

As soon as Mikey found out that Gerard and Lindsey had been discharged from the hospital at the beginning of the next week, he immediately took a bus over to see them, as the bus traffic had finally been restored after the storms. It was a slightly delayed Christmas Eve, since Gerard and Lindsey had already held theirs at the hospital, and Mikey had held his with their mom, playing chess and drinking wine.

“So, everything alright?” Mikey asked, walking into their kitchen and putting water in the kettle for coffee as soon as he entered. Gerard followed him as Lindsey was sitting in the couch, putting the baby to sleep.

“Better than ever. She’s a real little Christmas present.” Gerard said, looking at least ten years younger than when Mikey last had seen him. “She sleeps at day and eats at night though, but that’s kinda not really something I can do a whole lot about.”

Mikey poured boiling water into three mugs and filled them with instant coffee, handing one to his brother and carrying the other two himself. “What about names?”  
“We’ve talked about either Selma or Frida.” Gerard explained as he sat down next to his wife, and Mikey took his preferred chair across from them – the one with the multi-colored blanket.

“Selma is prettier, definitely.” Mikey pointed out.

“That’s what I’ve been saying, but Gee has this thing for Frida Kahlo. I’ve already agreed to Donna as middle name though, so he’s gonna have to surrender sooner or later.” Lindsey added with a laugh, while slowly rocking the baby back and forth.

“Selma Donna Way.” Mikey tried how the name felt. “I like it.”

“Yeah, it’s cute, right? So how’s Clandestine. Slept with any colleagues lately?” Lindsey asked jokingly, and Mikey just shrugged half-heartedly, assuming that Gerard had told her about the rumors that Mikey had suspected Gabe of starting.

“Looks like I hit a soft spot?” She continued giggling with a cocked eyebrow in his direction.

“Mikes. _Really_?” Gerard said and sent him a piercing look before breaking into a smile.

“Well, _no_. Not really.” Mikey mumbled and stared at his coffee cup. He hadn’t really been planning on telling anyone about it, and would’ve probably decided on pretending that him and Pete in that office had never happened, but now his nosy brother was sitting there with a curious look and Mikey had a history of not being able to keep _anything_ from him.

“That’s only an acceptable answer when you’re like – fourteen.” Lindsey rolled her eyes and before turning her attention to the baby that was waking up in her arms.  
“It’s nothing really.” Mikey started and took a long sip of his coffee while the baby quieted down again. “It’s just – _one time_ – I kinda, y’know, kissed my boss. It was nothing.”

“Why?” Gerard asked, still giggling and shaking his head. It was incredible how much fun two people who were long married and happily settled for the rest of their lives could have by hearing about Mikeys dead-end love-life.

“Why what?” Mikey raised his eyebrow back at them.

“Why only once?”

“Because – uh, then you called. And, y’know, I kinda had to go to the hospital.”

Mikey knew by the avalanche of laughter that followed, that he definitely didn’t have to be sorry for wishing that Gerard would’ve waited until _after_ the birth to call him and tell him to come visit them.

“So that guy you arrived with – he hadn’t _just_ been driving you. You had just been about to – oh my _God,_ Mikey.” Gerard said in between laughing fits, as Lindsey got up from the couch with a smile just as big as her husbands plastered across her face. She went in the baby’s room to put her down, so their loud conversation wouldn’t wake her again.

Mikey just shrugged again in response. He didn’t really know what else to do.

*

After booking the club for the New Year’s party, Mikey had emailed to every single employee of the company to show up at eight outside the location – it was a job he hadn’t trusted Gabe with, being as tired and pissy as he’d been that entire day.

Ironically enough, Mikey was one of the only employees who wasn’t there at eight, partly because he was just fashionably late by nature, partly because he was kind of anxious that somehow the email hadn’t been sent and absolutely no one had shown up. That wasn’t the case though, and music and laughter was already sounding from inside the club when he arrived.

Gabe was standing outside with half a cigarette between his fingers and a toxic-looking drink in his other hand, already swaying lightly, and Mikey couldn’t help huffing a laugh at him as he approached. Apparently he wasn’t as much of a non-smoker as he claimed to be, when there were people around him drunk enough to give him free cigarettes. Either that, or he was just too intoxicated to remember that he didn’t smoke. It could be either at the moment.

“Happy New Year. I am _drunk_.” Gabe proclaimed as he spotted Mikey, who had considered whether it would be weird to see his colleagues in casual clothes, but with Gabe it was pretty much the same since he rarely bothered putting on professional clothes when he was at Clandestine.

“The doors opened like fifty minutes ago.” Mikey pointed out and Gabe just put a solid hand on his shoulder and leaned.

“I can do fifty shots in fifty minutes.” He slurred, and then he started to sing and Mikey cringed. “Fifty, uh – fifty ways to leave your-”

“-your dignity at the bar.” He cut in before heading past Gabe towards the entrance of the club.  
At first he didn’t really spot anybody he knew, and he guessed that there was a lot of people from the Technical, Fashion and PR Departments that he’d never met.

Then, he spotted Joe at the end of the bar, slouching a little across the counter with a dry drink in his hand. Mikey approached him and Joe smiled as he spotted him.

“This party is rad as hell.” He said as Mikey sat down next to him and gestured at the hired bartender to bring him something. “I’ve spotted at least _five_ hot girls that I had no idea worked for Clandestine. They’re even still wearing _uniforms_.”

“Those are waitresses, Joe. They don’t work at Clandestine.” Mikey explained as the bartender put his drink down in front of him.  
Joe made a resigned noise and emptied his drink, and Mikey suspected highly that he’d been seriously hotboxing somewhere before he arrived, judging by his smell and the color of his eyes.

“I heard Gabe was looking for you. He wants to stick his tongue in your mouth.” Joe then said, completely changing the subject, and Mikey definitely preferred talking about the waitresses.

“So I’ve heard. I met him outside. He can barely stand.” Mikey shrugged, drained his glass and signaled for another one. If Gabe were going to openly hit on him then he might as well get to his level eventually. Mikey could say what he wanted about Gabe; but it wasn’t often that he left parties with his dignity intact either.

“Don’t put too much in it. I think everyone in this room has gotten hot and heavy with him at least once. It’s like – as much of a part of welcoming someone to Clandestine as Vicky lying about your job description is.” Joe said thoughtfully and Mikey nodded understandingly.

After another couple of drinks, he spotted Vicky on the dancefloor with Beckett, and they both looked fairly intoxicated and a lot more liberated than usually, when they were in each their respective office in the spotless suits, carrying around important documents. A bit later to the left Pete and a handful of people Mikey didn’t know were in the middle of a dramatic restaging of some scene from Dirty Dancing that Mikey was pretty sure was Director’s Cut.

He was so caught up in watching the horrible dance moves that his boss had going on that he didn’t notice Gabe had arrived next to him, staggering and sweating lightly, probably coming straight from the dancefloor.

“You owe me a dance.” He claimed and Mikey just looked at him, but that was apparently also enough answer to Gabe, and he firmly grabbed Mikeys wrist and guided him onto the dancefloor. He pushed himself close against Mikey just as someone put on an old Bowie record that Mikey had definitely listened to with his brother in the basement of their old house years ago.

“ _I’ve been putting out fire with gasoline_.” Gabe enthusiastically sang along and Mikey couldn’t help but laugh at his horrible attempts to hit the notes, while the alcohol fuzzing through his veins made him a lot more lightheaded and a lot easier to persuade into things like these.

It was far from unexpected when Gabe leaned forward and pushed his face into the crook of Mikeys neck, and it was far from fireworks or butterflies but nonetheless soft, wet and warm to feel his secretary’s tongue on his throat. And Mikey let his head fall backwards and let it happen because – hey – he hadn’t gotten this much action since Pete suddenly came on to him in Gabes office, and Pete was somewhere over by the wall right now with Patrick. It didn’t really matter either because it probably wasn’t going to happen again. Not with Gabe and not with Pete. And having someone’s tongue in your mouth was, according to Mikey, nice at any given party, ever.

When Mikey arrived at his house, several hours later, he shot a glance in the mirror in his hallway before going to bed, and wished he hadn’t. His hair was messed up, his eyes were glazy, he had a hickey – _a hickey, really_  – on his neck, and he looked sweaty and exhausted. He didn’t even remember having a hickey since, like, college.

But Gabe had done his job and given Mikey a, besides really late and probably slightly inappropriate, warm and very friendly welcome to Clandestine.

*

At Monday, after almost a week off and a more or less successful Christmas party, depending on how exactly success is defined, Mikey arrived at the Clandestine lobby. Joe was sound asleep across the counter, as the amount of people passing through had fallen remarkably since the fashion show. Mikey hadn’t brought donuts either, and he could live without whatever sly comment Joe would shoot at him, so he figured it didn’t really matter.

He had already prepared himself for the fact that Vicky might have figured that it would be a brilliant idea to put a stack of work the size of Mount Everest on Mikeys desk because he’d dared to have fun last Friday, but the amount of paper that was residing on his desk when he arrived was plain inhuman. The only comfort was that Frank had finally put together the last parts of the room divider, that now embellished more than half of their corridor with it’s massive size, and Mikeys office was cleared for tools and materials for the first time in a very long time.

“Gabe!” Mikey called across the corridor where Gabes door was ajar, and his secretary appeared from it only a few moments later.

“What’s the matter, darling?” He winked at Mikey who sighed in response.

“I need a serious amount of folders for all of this, and if you could take this stack and start sorting it in categories of extent-“

“Sorry.” Gabe cut in with a frown. “I’m in the middle of answering a deluge of emails that Vicky just forwarded to me this morning. You’re not the only one getting punished here because she’s still hungover and pissy.”

Mikey sighed again.

“Besides, you’re going to take a while to get through all of this. You’ve got plenty of times to fetch a couple of folders.” Gabe continued. “And good luck with it, by the way. You’ll need it.”

It didn’t take more than a couple of hours before Mikey realized that he was in a serious hurry if he wanted to get over with any of this before the end of the week, if he wanted any kind of weekend at all. He got up to see if Frank was anywhere to be found so that he could help him get some folders and some system in his tasks, but to his surprise, his assistant was for once not in his smoky office.

When he pushed open Gabes door, he found him deeply engaged in what looked suspiciously much like a serious game of solitaire, but didn’t bother with mentioning it.

“Have you seen Frank?” He asked, and Gabe just shook his head without moving his eyes from the screen. Mikey wondered if work could ever occupy _that_ much of his attention, but he concluded that it most definitely couldn’t.

So, Mikey headed for the elevator and ran into Pete at the coffee-maker on his way there. His boss were looking exhausted and in serious need of the cup of steaming coffee that the machine was currently pouring for him.

“Rough day?” Mikey said with a half-smile, and Pete nodded while shooting an eyebrow upwards.

“Ryan keeps on calling me from downstairs to make me agree on stuff that he rarely ever embarks me on. And as soon as he’s hung up, some journalist calls me to tell me how I feel about all the negative response.” Pete explained and grabbed his coffee, and Mikey decided that his paperwork could wait and pressed the buttons on the machine for it to make a cup for him too.

“It was like – two or three negative articles in the whole city.” Mikey pointed out.

“I _know_. But it’s like they don’t even care about the positive ones.” Pete rolled his eyes.

“Pete, the media has _never_ had interest in anything positive. That’s not what people want to read.” Mikey said with a shrug.

“We should weave the summer collection out of complaints.” Pete said with a dry laugh. “See how they like that.”

“Graphic t-shirts with sarcastic prints _are_ kind of popular, I think.” Mikey suggested. “Gabe has a load of them and my brother’s wife has more than a few, too.”

“You know – that’s actually not a bad idea.” Pete said thoughtfully. “I’m going to call Ryan about it, he’ll either love it or hate it.”

“Doesn’t he feel like that about literally everything?” Mikey asked, grabbing his cup of coffee and halfway crossing his arms.

“Yeah but, y’know-“ Pete swatted out his arms, spilling a bit of coffee on the white wall. “Never mind, I’m gonna go spread the word. Complaining is the new black.”

“Yeah. I was on my way down to Patrick for spare folders. I’ll see you ‘round.”

“Tell him I said hi.” Pete hollered as he was already halfway down the corridor towards his office, and Mikey sent a head-shaking smile in his direction before continuing his walk to the elevator.

Downstairs, Mikey found Patrick and Bob sitting on each their side of Patricks desk, playing cars and drinking coffee as usual. Patrick smiled when Mikey entered, while Bob just sent an acknowledging nod in his direction. Mikey was still mildly terrified of Bob, but it had definitely gotten better since Pete stopped hitting on Patrick, so he didn’t fear for his life when entering the third floor anymore.

“I just need a few spare folders, Vicky is going crazy upstairs.” Mikey said and Patrick started getting up from his chair. “Don’t bother. I can help myself by now.”  
Patrick sat back down and picked up his deck of cards, while Mikey went over to the shelf that held all the spare folders and started picking up the ones that he needed.

“So, did you have fun last Friday?” Patrick asked innocently, and Mikey didn’t even have to turn around to know that he was smiling knowingly. It wasn’t like him and Gabe had kept it discreet at any point, after all, it was just for fun.

“Lots.” Mikey said calmly and turned around, arms full of folders. “How ‘bout you two?”

“Bob walked me home pretty early.” Patrick shrugged and gestured towards the caretaker on the other side of his desk. “Turns out I can’t keep up with Pete when it comes to alcohol.”

“That’s not news.” Bob commented dryly, but then he smiled. “I’m gonna get more coffee, want a cup, Mikey?”

Mikey politely declined and Bob got up from his chair and headed out of the office to wherever the coffee-maker was settled on the third floor. Mikey dared to take his chair while he was gone.

“So, what about you and Pete?” Patrick asked as soon as the door had slammed behind Bob.

“What about me and Pete?” Mikey asked, slightly confused.

“Don’t be silly. I talk to Pete now, y’know.”

“Oh.” Mikey said. “Nothing.”

“What do you mean _nothing_?” Patrick sounded almost offended, and it almost felt as if Mikey was supposed to apologize. He didn’t, though.

“Well, we kissed that one time. That was it, I think.” He added with a shrug.

“You have _got_ to be the _slowest_ person in this entire-“ Patrick started, but quickly stopped talking when Bob reappeared in the doorway.

“Coffee.” He stated and then just stared at Mikey until he got up from the chair.

“Well, I better get back to work, I guess.” Mikey said and grabbed his folders from the desk where he’d placed them while he sat down, before heading towards the door.

“See you.” Patrick called after him and Bob grunted something alike before Mikey was out the door.

Mikey had been downstairs for no more than twenty minutes, and therefore it was kind of a surprise to him when Frank, Brian and a handful of concerned looking guys from Technical Department was blocking the way into the Z corridor.

“Uh, what’s going on?” He asked, and Frank turned towards him, almost hidden by the large amount of folders that was taking up most of Mikeys view.

“There’s some trouble with one of the water pipes, which happens to be located right around – here.” Frank explained and pointed to a spot right underneath where they were standing. “We’re gonna try and fix it without calling for help from an actual plumber. We’ve got some guys in Technical who are qualified for that kind of stuff.”

“Sure. Let me know how it goes.” Mikey nodded before heading into his office, having trouble finding anywhere in the entire room that wasn’t covered in paper and filled folders and empty coffee cups and other various objects, where he could place all the folders, and ended up dumping them on the floor for now.

He spent the rest of the afternoon trying to categorize the tasks that Vicky had dumped on him, starting out with the most difficult and extended ones, so he could end his week with the easier ones that was quickly finished. Gabe sometimes came in with cups of coffee, and Mikey hoped to God that it was either because he was so busy answering emails and needed breaks from it or because he hadn’t been doing anything at all and now was having a guilty conscience because of it and tried to make it up to Mikey with coffee. He highly suspected that somehow it was neither.

With January came countless storms raging through California, and with the storms came delayed bus traffic if any bus traffic at all, and by the end of the week, Mikey had asked Gabe if he could somehow get the mattress to make a very convenient reappearance somewhere in Department Z. He probably wouldn’t admit it if anyone asked, but he’d missed sleeping in the office a bit, and spent more and more time at his brothers when finally had days off because he was _bored_ when he was home alone.

He’d considered getting some kind of pet for a while, but considering his amount of days off – or lack thereof – it was probably a bad idea since said pet would have to spend most of it’s days alone. He’d concluded that the only thing it would be responsible of him to purchase was a cactus, so he’d done so a few days after New Year’s. The downside was that there wasn’t an awful lot of company in a cactus, so it was a pleasant change of location when he went to sleep on the mattress on the floor of his own office after almost a month of sleeping at home.

“Goodnight, sleep tight and don’t let the fashionistas bite.” Gabe said Thursday night, before leaving with Beckett somewhere right in front of him, while Mikey was still sitting at his desk, deeply engaged in a report about the expenditures of the consignments of materials through the last month.

“Have fun.” Mikey just shot back before Gabe was gone.

It was past midnight when he finally shut off his computer and retrieved to the mattress that had been placed in the back of his office behind his desk, and he was asleep within a timespan of five minutes. Fashion was a lot more exhausting than he’d first assumed it to be.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed that was wrong was that it wasn’t someone’s feet poking him that had caused him to stir awake, but instead that he was unbelievably cold. The second thing was that he felt about twenty pounds heavier than he did when he went to sleep. The third thing was that the building wasn’t buzzing with life as it usually was on mornings where he’d spent the night, so it would have to be a lot earlier than he first thought.  
It took him another few seconds of coming completely to his senses before he realized that he had woken up because he was absolutely soaked, from head to toe, in cold water.

He sat up on the mattress that was soggy and clinging to his clothes, to find that his entire floor was covered in about an inch of water. He quickly got to his feet, shivering and with chattering teeth to figure out where exactly such a huge amount of water had come from in the few hours he’d been asleep, but after scanning the entire office with his eyes, he still had no idea and decided to try and locate some dry clothes instead.  
When he opened the door to his office, he was suddenly face to face with a frustrated looking Frank in water to his ankles, who jumped in shock by the sight of Mikey with a splashing sound.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked with wide eyes. “It’s only six.”

“I was trying to sleep, but since my office somehow has been turned into the _pacific ocean_ -“ Mikey started with a shaky voice.

“The issue with the water pipe was a little more comprehensive than first presumed, okay?” Frank growled and pulled two cigarettes out of the pocket of his pants.

He was about to hand one to Mikey when he took a look at his hands that were dripping, and then just shoved it directly in his mouth. “There’s been a leak, and this whole department is underwater. Luckily it hasn’t spread to the rest of this floor.”

Frank lighted his own cigarette first and then Mikeys, and they stood for a while like that, observing the rings in the water every time either of them moved just the slightest bit.

“I’ve been here since five, moving valuable paperwork from floor height and trying to figure out if any of our furniture is resistant to water. I would’ve given you a warning if I’d known that you had _moved in_ , again.”

“The bus traffic is hell. It’s easier.” Mikey shrugged and Frank nodded.

“Get a license and a car, you idiot. With your salary you can afford it.” Frank pointed out and Mikey cringed.

“I’m not a car person. I like the bus.”

“I’m going to assume that that’s despite the fact that this is what happens to people who take the bus.” Frank grinned and gestured towards Mikeys shirt and pants that were still dripping into the water on the floor with plumping sounds. Mikey crossed his arms.

“This is _insane._ This whole _company_ is insane.” Gabe exclaimed first thing when he arrived a couple of hours later and saw the minor waterpark that Department Z had been turned into. He was all big hand-motions and weird hair, and Mikey just nodded.

The next thing Gabe did was take a look at Mikey and then burst into a violent laughing fit, because the only dry clothes that Mikey and Frank had been able to find on the entire floor was a pink, glittery hoodie with the Clandestine logo across the chest, some very leggings-like black jeans with a huge yellow smiley attached to each knee, and some horribly colored sneakers that reminded Mikey an awful lot of the ones Pete always wore. Mikey glared at him.

“Why didn’t they send you out on the catwalk, you were clearly born for fashion.” Gabe giggled, out of breath and with his hands on his stomach.

“We have to relocate for a while.” Mikey said and ignored his comment. “Which means sharing offices, since there’s not really three spare offices available anywhere in the building.”

“I’m moving downstairs to Technical, I can help them with the plumbing anyways.” Frank chimed in as he appeared from somewhere down by the elevator with Brian next to him in that same instant.

“Dibs on Becketts office!” Gabe shouted, and Beckett stuck his head out of his door somewhere further down the main corridor that they were currently standing in to avoid getting wet feet, looking overly satisfied with that solution.

“So that leaves either Petes or Vickys office for you.” Gabe pointed out, sounding more and more liked he’d just won the lottery. “Unless you want to move down to second floor – you’d probably fit there anyways. Looks like you and Ryan could probably agree on a thing or two about outfits.”

“In case I get the flu from this, I am so sneezing on everything you own.” Mikey threatened half-heartedly before going to pick up the most important and least wet stuff from his office, consisting of his computer, a couple of folders filled with the tasks he was in the middle of doing and the spare folders that he’d picked up the other day.

“Um, did the storage rooms throw up on you?” Pete asked curiously, only with a bit of laughter to his voice, when Mikey entered his office, carrying all his stuff.  
“Something like that, but with far more water involved.” Mikey said exhaustedly as he dropped all of his stuff on the opposite end of Petes desk than the one he was sitting at.

“So what now?” Pete tilted his head and looked at Mikey who grabbed the only other chair in Petes office.

“Now, I’m going to sit in here instead and attempt to get _anything_ done in these clothes until Frank and Brian admits that they’re not really plumbers and call a real one.” Mikey sighed and opened his computer, praying that it hadn’t gotten so much water that it wouldn’t work. The last thing he needed was everything he’d gotten over with last night disappearing right in front of him.

“How about-“ Pete started out thoughtfully, and got up from his chair. “Giving hell in getting anything done for the moment and going to get comfort-donuts for the entire building?”

Mikey looked up from his screen at Pete, and then down at his ridiculous clothes, and then back at Pete who _always_ wore ridiculous clothes.

“ _God_ , I was getting scared you wouldn’t ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter 3 notes**
> 
> * all baby names are changed because of privacy and respect  
> ** 'house of cards' is a radiohead song go listen to it


	4. Casualties

Mikey was standing in front of a corridor covered in a couple of inches of semi-dirty water, wearing glittery and neon-colored clothes while holding a box of donuts when Vicky arrived, and the look on her face when she spotted Mikey made it hard for him to not wheeze with laughter. 

“I won’t even being to _try_ and comprehend what is going on here.” She said coldly and Mikey suppressed another giggle as Pete arrived behind his General Manager with two cups of coffee. 

“Hi, Vicky.” He greeted way too gleefully and Vicky turned around and sent him a death glare. 

“Did you know about this?” 

“Yeah, I did, since Mikey is currently working from my office due to all of this.” Pete nodded and she closed her eyes and sighed. 

“But why is he wearing _that_?” Mikey felt a little like he didn’t exist as Vicky made a resigned hand-motion in his direction. 

“I don’t know. Maybe he got inspired by the fashion show – why don’t you ask him yourself?” Pete said and rolled his eyes before handing Mikey one of the cups he was carrying.

Vicky just huffed at them, clearly offended by the fact that Pete didn’t despise Mikey in the same way she did, before she marched down the corridor and out of their sight. Mikey wasn’t really sure what exactly he’d done to deserve her fury, but he was pretty sure it had more than a little to do with Gabe. Who was currently unable to be located, by the way, though Mikey had his ideas what his secretary might be doing, since Becketts office was suspiciously empty. No donuts for him, then. 

They found Frank and Brian in the middle of an intense discussion about what exact tools it would take to fix the leak, and Mikey was fairly disappointed to find out that they still hadn’t concluded that they _really_ needed a professional plumber by now. Mikey offered them donuts while Pete interestedly looked down at the hole in the wall behind which the disastrous pipe was located, neither of them really bothering with the fact that their feet got wet. 

“For the love of God can’t you find something else to wear.” Frank sighed and looked at Mikeys sweatshirt before Mikey and Pete headed out for the next stop on their trip around the building with donuts. Mikey just shrugged. He’d already been all the way downstairs and out on the street in this get-up and everyone had already seen him, and the shirt was kind of soft to wear so  he didn’t really see any reason to hurry with finding some more discreet clothes. 

“Let’s go find Patrick and Bob.” Pete said as they entered the elevator and hit the third-floor button. 

“They can’t be particularly hard to find.” Mikey added with a smile. 

“You never know. People who play cards a lot are unreliable. Just look at Gabe.” Pete grinned and Mikey couldn’t help but giggle. 

“He’s not unreliable.” Mikey snickered. “He’s just horny.”

“True.”

It wasn’t as if Mikey had expected any other reaction from Patrick and Bob than wheezing laughter as he stepped into the third-floor supply office in his soft glittery sweatshirt and whatnot, but he still felt a little ridiculous and stood in a corner with his arms crossed while they got themselves together. Pete just put the donuts down on the desk, on top of their game of cards. Whatever, it wasn’t like they were paying attention to it anymore anyways.

“Did you let Pete dress you?” Patrick asked, wiping tears from his eyes and grabbing a donut from the box. 

“No. Frank.” Mikey sighed and sat down on the edge of the desk, while Pete kept on standing. Mikey suspected that he was even more terrified of Bob than Mikey was, and felt safest when keeping a reasonable distance to both Bob and Patrick. “There’s a leak upstairs and I got wet. This was the only thing that was dry.” 

Patrick started laughing again at this, and Mikey cocked his eyebrow at him. 

“You’re aware that we have entire _storage rooms_ down here filled with clothes that no ones currently using.” He said between giggles. Mikey frowned. “A lot more discreet than those.”

“I’m pretty positive I found you in one of them back when you were new.” Bob added thoughtfully. “You’d gotten lost on your way here.” 

“Oh my God, that’s right.” Mikey groaned and put a hand to his face, feeling incredibly stupid. If he’d remembered the storage rooms a few hours earlier when him and Frank had searched the entire top floor for some kind of clothing samples that were dry, he wouldn’t have had to look like an idiot for the entire day. 

“You could’ve reminded me.” Mikey said and looked half-accusingly at Pete who just shrugged and looked a lot like he tried holding back a laugh. 

“I didn’t even see you until, like, you moved into my office.” He grinned and Mikey took a deep breath. 

“Moved in?” Patrick asked with a sudden curious look and Mikey turned his attention back to him, grabbing another donut. He really needed the sugar right now. He could also use a cigarette. 

“Yeah. There corridor is flooded, so we’re sharing offices at the moment.” Pete explained. “Frank is with Brian, Gabe with Beckett and Mikey is with me.” 

“Oh, like that.” Patrick nodded. “Sounds nice.” 

“Can we please get back to my _clothes_?” Mikey demanded and there was a moment of laughter again. 

“Stop sounding like literally _anyone_ in the Fashion Department. You’re a fifth floorer.” Pete giggled and Mikey tried shoving him but he took a step to the left, causing Mikey to almost fall of the desk in his attempt to reach him. 

“Pete can take you to one of the storages. We’ll keep the donuts safe in the meantime.” Bob suggested and patted the pink box next to Mikey. 

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” He rolled his eyes and turned towards Pete. “Let’s go, then.”

It took about twenty minutes later of wandering around the dim corridors of the third floor before Mikey stopped doubting that they were lost. Pete was walking ahead of him trying to find a storage room in between what seemed to be an endless amount of supply and broom closets and rooms filled with unopened cardboard boxes and old mannequins. It was generally a pretty creepy place, and Mikey understood why Bob preferred sitting in Patricks office with coffee and card games. He was also pretty sure that third floor only seemed to be that big because they had walked in circles ever since they left Patrick and Bob. 

“Do you have any idea where we are?” Mikey asked with a raised eyebrow, and Pete who was walking in front of him turned around. 

“Sort of.” He shrugged and made a non-committing hand-motion. 

“You should know this building better than anyone.” Mikey crossed his arms. 

“I always sit in the same office on fifth floor.” Pete argued eagerly. “I only know my way to Patricks office because I come there all the time.” 

“Wow. You’re not exactly Indiana Jones.” Mikey said with a laugh. 

“Well you’re definitely Lois Lane but with more glitter.” 

“I hate you. You’re the reason these clothes _exist_.” Mikey frowned at Pete, who was leaning on the wall, looking a lot like he’d given up on finding the storage room and new clothes for Mikey. “Besides, Lois Lane was Superman’s chick. Know your comics.” 

“I _know_.” Pete rolled his eyes at him. “But I’d also rather be Superman than Indiana Jones.” 

“Let’s go back to Patrick and Bob and ask them for directions.” Mikey suggested, changing the topic. 

“Fine. I hope you know the way back.” Pete grinned. 

“Jesus _Christ_. It can’t be that hard. Let’s go this way.” Mikey said and pointed down another corridor, who looked suspiciously much like the other five hundred corridors they’d already walked down. 

Mikey turned corners and opened random doors to supply closets that he was sure they’d opened the doors into at least twenty times before, for another good ten minutes before they finally stood in front of a door that he was _sure_ was the door to Patricks office, despite the fact that it looked exactly like every other door on the entire floor. Mikey was generally annoyed and seconds away from lighting a cigarette right where he was standing.

“This is the door.” He stated proudly.

“How do you know?” Pete asked skeptically, squinting at him. 

“I just know this door.” 

“You know the door.”

“Yes.” 

“Well, then open it.” Pete demanded, and Mikey stepped forward and pushed open the door, to reveal that it most definitely didn’t lead to Patricks office.

“That wasn’t the door.” Mikey sighed and was about to turn around and leave the dark room again, when Pete suddenly stopped in the doorway. He then proceeded to search for a light switch beside the doorframe, and when he finally found it, the whole room suddenly lit up and it was a lot bigger than Mikey had first expected. He felt a smile creep onto his face. 

“You found the storage room.” Pete said. 

“I did.” Mikey nodded, still smiling. 

“How in the _fuck-_ “ Pete started and walked deeper into the room, where plastic boxes was stacked on top of each other, filled with old clothes that Mikey remembered looking at once he’d been here – lost on his way to Patricks office – it was totally déjà vu. 

“Do you think they’ll mind if I smoke in here?” Mikey asked thoughtfully, already fidgeting with the pack of cigarettes that he’d worked into the unbelievably tight pocket of the smiley-jeans earlier that day. 

“No one has even been in here for like, eighty five years.” Pete shrugged and made grabby-hands at Mikey when he put a smoke in his mouth. 

“I have. I got lost here when I’d just started.” Mikey said. “Bob found me.” 

“Scary.” Pete mumbled and snatched Mikeys lighter. 

“Where do you keep clothes that are less glittery and less _Clandestine-y._ ” Mikey asked then, and Pete shrugged again. 

“No idea. I don’t come here often.” 

Mikey resolutely walked over and opened the first and best box he could reach, and found it to be filled with some kind of corsets. 

“Nope.” He shut the box closed again and put it back where he’d found it, before pulling out the next one. 

“What are these?” He asked Pete, holding up some kind of black laces. 

“Garters.” Pete said with a huge grin and a cigarette triumphantly dangling from his mouth. “You’d love them, probably.” 

“Oh.” Mikey said and threw them back in the box with a grin. “Right.”

“You seriously need to get some.” Pete said with a loud laughter. “You don’t remember what _underwear_ looks like.”

“Well, my secretary tried persistently at the New Years party. But these aren’t really for dudes anyways.” Mikey shrugged, picking at some of the other laces in the box.  

“Says who?” Pete said and dug a pair of garters out of the box again. “Women wear boxers, too, y’know.” 

“Well _you’re_ not gonna put them on, are you?” Mikey asked doubtfully. 

“Well _no_ , but that doesn’t mean that other guys doesn’t wear them. For all I know _you_ could be wearing them.” Pete argued and Mikey squinted at him. 

“I’m not wearing garters.” Mikey said. 

“That’s what they all say.” Pete laughed, dismissing the subject and moving on to the next box. Soon after, he held up a tight, black dress that looked like it was more see-through than what was good for anyone involved. 

“I’m trying to look like a Supervisor, not a stripper.” 

“Well the guy who furnished this place certainly didn’t get that memo.” 

“I think we’re in a wrong part of it.” Mikey decided, and walked down along another shelf, pulling out a whole different box from it’s spot. 

“These looks like shirts.” He said, and Pete came over to stand behind him, looking down into the box. 

“Indeed.” 

“Thank God.” Mikey sighed in relief. 

“Praise the lord.” Pete added with a smile.

“You look boring.” Gabe said with a frown as he entered Petes office when they’d arrived back up on fifth floor, after a good while of navigating through the corridors of the third floor. Mikey and Pete was sitting at each their end of Petes desk with an ocean of empty coffee cups between them, each with focus on their computer. 

“I’m busy.” Mikey said and Gabe made a rejected and very dramatic noise behind him. 

“Frank needs your help.” He huffed with a good deal of offence to his voice. 

“Is he still playing Bob the Builder?” Mikey turned around and looked at Gabe, who was standing in the doorway with a hand on his hip.  
“I think it has gracefully merged into a very serious game of the floor is lava – or in this case, the floor is global warming come early.” Gabe explained, and Mikey took a deep breath. 

“Why does he need me?” 

“I don’t know. He swore a lot and then I ran before he started splashing water at me.” 

Mikey reluctantly got up from his chair, leaving the report he was in the middle of writing behind, and following Gabe back to where Frank was indeed yelling a lot of adult words and splashing around a lot. The water almost reached his knees by now and Mikey noticed that Frank had put an emptied part of the room divider at the end of the corridor to prevent the water from flowing onto the rest of the floor. 

“Will you call a plumber soon?” Mikey asked straight-forwardly and Frank pulled his head out of the hole in the wall that was getting gradually bigger and shot him a deathly glare. 

“I’ve got this under control.” He just said. 

“Yeah, if you’re working on recreating a scene from Atlantis.” Gabe added sarcastically. 

“I’m going to drown you.” Frank threatened. 

“ _Department Z – The Sunken Empire._ ” Gabe mocked, and Mikey took a deep breath before climbing across the room divider and into the water. 

“What’s the issue?” He asked, as he took a look around and their corridor. 

“Our stuff is getting wet. We need to move it.” Frank explained as he stuck his head back inside the hole and started hitting the pipe with his wrench. 

“Couldn’t Gabe help you? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” 

“Gabe insists he has a weak immune system and can’t let his feet get wet.” 

“Well; I insist that Gabe is full of bullshit.” Mikey said as he grabbed a couple of semi-important folders from the parts of the room divider that was still standing in their respective spots in the corridor. 

“Never argued against that. Never will.” Frank shrugged from inside the wall where the continuous sound of a wrench hitting a pipe still sounded.

Mikey spent the rest of the afternoon running back and forth between the Z corridor and various remotely dry places with his arms full of folders and paperwork that would seriously slow their work down if it got ruined by the water. Once in a while Gabe showed up at the end of the corridor with filled cups of coffee for both Mikey and Frank, always staying on the dry side of the room divider, just grinning and shrugging if they asked him to help. Mikey seriously needed a raise.

Frank drove him home the next couple of days as the bus traffic still wasn’t up and running, and it was completely impossible to sleep anywhere in Department Z.

Friday morning, Mikey woke up covered in cold sweat and with a throat so sore he could barely breathe. He closed his eyes in dismissal of what felt like an oncoming round of a serious cold, but once he was awake, there was nothing to do. He didn’t even have to take his temperature to know that he had a fever, and with a combination of an uneasy stomach and an infected throat, he couldn’t even drink his beloved cup of morning-coffee. He sat down in his couch with a reluctant sigh and picked his phone up from the table where it had been lying that night.

“Clandestine Industries – this is Pete Wentz.” His boss said in a formal tone of voice when he picked up. 

“Pete.” Mikey rasped, immediately being sent into a longer session of coughing – after saying just one word. This was seriously looking to be an awful day. 

“Mikey, ‘sup?” He asked, immediately dropping the formalities as he heard who it was. 

“I’m sick. I’m not coming in today.” He coughed, and Pete took a second understanding what he was trying to get through. 

“Oh. Okay, I’ll see you next week then. Feel better soon,” Pete said at last, then he let out a short laugh. “Department Z’s gonna be chaos without you.”

“It has been chaos ever since it started.” Mikey commented dryly. 

“But really, come back soon – I _just_ got used to having someone around in my office.” Pete said and Mikey smiled a little before hanging up.

Later that day, Mikey texted his brother to come over, since he felt like he’d really used up his quota of words for that day and didn’t have energy for talking anymore on the phone. 

“What happened?” Gerard asked empathetically when he entered Mikeys living room and saw him curled up on the couch with a blanket and the TV running. “Are you watching _Gossip Girl_?” 

“Shut up, it’s cinematic _gold_.” Mikey defended, holding the remote a little tighter. “And _everything_ happened.” 

“That’s a lot – you’ve got to have an incredible agenda.” Gerard said sarcastically. 

“Well, I also have the flu.” He rasped, and at that, his brother hurried into the kitchen to warm a cup of tea. 

“You don’t have anything in your kitchen.” He yelled after a while, and Mikey just coughed in response. “I’m gonna run down to the store after tea, soup, cough drops, uh – what more do you need? Crosswords? Rum toddy?” 

“Jesus Christ, Gerard, I’m not dying.” Mikey rasped and rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t say that. Selma had something a few days ago and if we hadn’t fought it then she might have gotten seriously ill.” Gerard argued, already putting on his jacket and scarf. 

“The difference here is that she’s  a newborn and I’m a grown man.” 

“You’re not allowed to use those words about yourself as long as Gossip Girl is on.” Gerard dismissed before heading out the door.

When Gerard came back with two plastic bags full of groceries and had put it all in place in the kitchen, he came in with two steaming cups of tea, handed one to Mikey and sat down at Mikeys feet. Mikey took a minute to remember when he’d even had a cup of tea last – or food in his fridge for that matter. It was probably longer than he would tell Gerard if he asked about it. 

“So, what’s going on?” He asked instead, and Mikey took a deep breath and winced as it pained his throat. 

“Hmm, there was a flood, I was forced to wear a glittery pink sweatshirt for an entire day, my secretary gave me a hickey, my assistant is pretending he’s a plumber and currently _lives_ in a wall, my throat feels like it’s going to constrict every second and I have a thousand things I should be thinking about but all I’m thinking about is Blair and Serena and whether or not my boss has ever worn garters or not.” Mikey said in between extended coughing fits, and when he was done he felt like never ever talking again. 

“Did you know stress can lower the immune system?” Gerard just asked with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Spending the night in icy water can, too.” Mikey shrugged. 

“Can we take it one thing at a time, and a little slower?” 

Mikey took a moment to get himself together before he looked up at his brother with a slightly panicked expression. “The essential thing is; I think I want to sleep with my boss. Which isn’t even my biggest issue at the moment.” 

“The one you made out with, really?” Gerard asked sarcastically and Mikey crossed his arms, causing the remote to fall to the floor. “What made you draw that conclusion?” 

“I don’t know. We got lost in one of the storage rooms and he said some things that I-“ Mikey held a long, thoughtful pause and reluctantly took another sip of his tea. “I mean, I’ve always found him attractive but like, it was suddenly, y’know – all up here.”

He waved a hand in front of his face and Gerard laughed. 

“And the worst part is it’s like the least of my problems.”

Gerard stayed for the rest of the day, constantly making sure that Mikey had whatever he needed of hot beverages and entertainment, and by the time he went home Mikey felt a lot better, mentally at least.

He was preparing to spend the rest of his weekend in front of his beloved TV-shows with occasional urgent bathroom visits and plenty of hot tea, and almost frowned to himself in surprise when someone knocked his door Saturday evening. He rarely had visitors except Gerard and his mom, and Gerard never knocked and his mom always called before showing up to make sure he was home. 

He maneuvered himself off the couch with the blanket wrapped tightly around him and made his way towards the hallway, where he opened his front door to reveal his secretary standing outside, all wrapped up in scarfs and beanies. 

“Gabe?” Mikey asked. He didn’t even know that Gabe had his address, and he’d never seen him _that_ dressed before, so it was all in all a strange experience. 

“You look like shit.” Gabe just stated before taking a step inside, causing Mikey to take a step backwards. 

“Love you too.” Mikey answered dryly. “Tea?” 

Gabe shook his head as he sat down in Mikeys couch. 

“So, how are you?” 

“Is that really why you’re here?” Mikey asked skeptically and sat down in the other end of the couch. “Considerate.” 

“Okay, let me rephrase the question – how long do you think it’s gonna take you to get better, man up and fuck our CEO because he’s being a little bitch and hanging off of my back when you’re not there to entertain him and it’s really hard to have office sex when your boss keeps interrupting you.” 

“That’s more like you.” Mikey said and took a sip of his tea, shooting Gabe an amused look as his secretary had gotten an almost pleading expression on his face. “I don’t know.” 

“The way you look at him stopped being discreet a long time ago. Besides, you already kissed him.” Gabe argued coldly. Up until now, Mikey hadn’t even been aware that there had been a _way_ that he looked at Pete, and he really didn’t know how Gabe had found out about their encounter in his office. 

“How’d you know?” He just asked. 

“Pete told Patrick who told me.” 

“Oh.” Mikey huffed. 

“Will you get back soon?” 

“I’m _trying_.” Mikey gestured towards his tea. “I’ve been gone for like, two days. Relax.”

*

When Mikey’s fever had finally disappeared and he felt more or less back to normal, it was already Wednesday, and he didn’t even _dare_ to think about what inhuman amounts of work that was waiting for him back at the office. 

To his great disappointment, Frank still hadn’t come to his senses, and was so far into the hole that he was probably turning into a piece of dry wall himself – and the corridor was still flooded. Mikey turned around before he reached the room divider and headed towards Petes office where his stuff was still settled, keeping his feet dry. The last thing he needed right now was another round of the flu. 

“Mikey!” Pete exclaimed when Mikey entered his office, without knocking as usual. Mikey had, contrary to the rest of the floor, stopped knocking on Petes door completely. There were some formality about it that he didn’t really feel when it came to Pete, which in itself was a positive thing. 

“How are you?” He continued and Mikey shrugged before sitting down. 

“I’m okay. My throat still isn’t all good but it’ll do.” He explained, turning on his computer. “How are things up here?” 

“As usual. Y’know, nothing works, no one does anything, everything is chaos – mayhem, havoc and lots of coffee.” Pete said and grinned at Mikey. It was good to be back. 

“ _God_ , the emails are hoarding.” Mikey sighed as he took a look at his inbox only to conclude that the number of emails he’d have to deal with was at least ten times the one he’d left last week. “I’m gonna have to stay here all night.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Pete said with a concerned frown. “You just got back.” 

“Thanks, mom.” Mikey rolled his eyes and Pete huffed with fake offence. 

“I’m just worried.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Patrick while I was gone.” Mikey grinned. 

“We’ll, there were no one else to spend time with.”

“There’s plenty of people around.” Mikey argued, and Pete sent him a look. 

“They’re all busy.” 

“I’m busy too.” Mikey said and crossed his arms, shooting another look in direction of his laptop and feeling like his mood sunk a couple of degrees. 

“Yeah, but you’re easier to persuade into ignoring that fact and doing funnier things. As for example accompanying me to get some real coffee as soon as I’ve been downstairs to schedule a meeting with Ryan and yet another couturier. I’m getting sick of Clandestine coffee.” 

“Sure.” Mikey agreed without further complaints, thinking that at least he could answer a handful of emails before Pete got back if he really focused.

Somewhere in the middle of replying to the bank that Clandestine had all their user accounts at about extending their settlement – which was actually more Becketts division, Gabe stuck his head in, showing off warm cheeks and suspiciously uncontrollable hair. He just took a few steps into the room, kissed Mikeys cheek passionately before giving him thumbs up and then disappearing down the corridor again. Mikey had an idea what that was all about.

He didn’t get a lot further before he was interrupted again, this time by Frank, who looked very reluctant, semi-soaked and covered in dust from inside the wall. He looked mostly like a depressed ghost. He even still had the wrench in his hand as he stood there, dripping on Petes carpet. 

“I think we need to call a plumber.” He stated, and Mikey tried really hard to hold back his ‘told you so’, because it looked like it took every single ounce of Franks strength to admit that he’d been wrong. 

“You think?” He just asked calmly and Frank nodded. 

“Yeah. It’s getting out of control.” 

“I have the number of a local plumber right here.” Mikey said, and took a minute to write a string of numbers down on a little piece of paper for Frank. “Then maybe we can get back to our own offices soon.” 

“Didn’t think you’d mind having Pete around.” Frank said, and even managed to send Mikey a sly smile before heading out of the office.

Mikey finished the email he was working on when Pete re-entered the office with an annoyed expression across his face. 

“Am I a cocky fashionista?” He asked accusingly, sitting down across from Mikey. 

“Yes.” Mikey said straight-forwardly, and Pete sighed. 

“Ryan did say that – but he wouldn’t listen when I said he was like ten times worse. He is, right?” Pete complained and Mikey looked up from his screen and over at his boss. 

“Probably. I don’t spend enough time around him to be sure.” Mikey shrugged and then got up from his chair, grabbing his coat. “Coffee?” 

“You wouldn’t happen to have any of those forbidden cigarettes with you either, would you? I could use one.” Pete asked with a pleading look. 

“Not if my brother asks. He’s forbidden me to smoke until spring because of my throat.” Mikey grinned and patted one of his pockets. 

“By the way, I found this awesome coffeehouse. It’s only like a five minute walk away from the bakery, and their coffee is heavenly.” Pete explained on their way to the elevator. Mikey pulled up the hood of his jacket as he spotted drizzling rain outside.

The coffee was truly some of the best that Mikey had tried, but instead of enjoying it, he was currently about to fall of his chair, wheezing with laughter because Pete was incapable of drinking mochas with whipped cream without leaving a trail of foam on his upper lip, which he didn’t notice himself. 

“You’ve got something-“ Mikey giggled and tried gesturing towards his own upper lip, but when Pete just frowned at him he started laughing again and didn’t really get further in the communication. 

“Here.” Mikey said at last, when he’d gotten himself together, and then he reached forward and wiped it off with his thumb, causing Pete to kind of freeze when Mikey just then proceeded to grin at him and suck the milk foam of his thumb. 

“Thanks.” Pete huffed, smiling back. Then, he leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss to Mikeys lips, kind of causing some of the foam to end up back where it had started, but neither of them really cared anymore. 

Mikey closed his eyes and lingered a little in the air as Pete pulled back, maybe hoping for more or maybe just coping with the fact that they had circled each other for more than a month now without ever touching, up until now. Pete just sat back in his chair and flashed Mikey a wide smile. 

As they left the coffeehouse, Pete let his fingers work in between Mikeys and kept them there, and Mikey caught the baristas eyes who just sent them an unimpressed look, and Mikey grinned at her before the door closed behind them and they were back out in the rain.

“Franks calling a plumber.” Mikey announced as they sauntered back towards the Clandestine building, hand in hand. 

“About time.” Pete grinned. “If he’d waited much longer we should’ve just ordered a waterslide instead.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that would increase Department Z’s already impeccable effectivity.” Mikey rolled his eyes. “I have so many emails right now I’m probably gonna coalesce with my chair over the next few days.”  
“And yet you’re not working.” Pete shook his head with a huge grin. 

“No. I’m _really_ easy to persuade into ignoring work and going to get coffee.” 

“Or else you’re just a sucker for me.” Pete grinned and squeezed Mikeys hand.

Despite really wanting to go and be all ‘told-you-so’ on Frank as he called the plumber and asked them to drop by as fast as possible, or maybe just sit around and drink coffee with Pete and maybe hold his hand and stuff like that, Mikey really did have to work. 

The rest of the day quickly went by with him sitting nailed to the chair at the opposite end of Petes desk than the one where Pete was residing, not even bothering to act like he was even half as busy as Mikey was. The perks of being the CEO apparently included a certain General Manager not wanting to dump just as much work on him as she wanted to dump on everyone else. 

The fifth time within an hour than Mikey shushed Pete because he was throwing paper balls at the bin and pretending to score, he rolled his eyes and exited his office to find somewhere else to play imaginary basket where he wouldn’t be interrupting Mikey, who couldn’t help but smile at Pete as he got up from his chair.

“Why are you sitting here?” Gabe asked from the doorway, somewhere around dinnertime when the Clandestine building had started to quiet down as the employees went home. Pete still hadn’t shown himself since Mikey had clearly expressed that he, no matter what he’d rather be doing, really had to actually get some work done. 

“Because if I’m quick then I’ll have answered 55 emails by the time I go home. New personal record.” Mikey replied, turning around to face his secretary.

“That’s one email for every time I had sex today. Truly amazing.” Gabe said sarcastically and Mikey sent him a questioning look. “At least some of us knows how to live a little.” 

“Hey, shut up – it’s fifty five emails _besides_ kissing our boss in a coffeeshop down the road.” He shot back and only blushed a little afterwards. 

“That’s what I wanna hear.” Gabe grinned and gave Mikey an acknowledging nod. “So why are you sitting here, letting him roam the hallways alone and bored when you could be breaking his desk?”

“ _Fifty five_ emails Gabe.” Mikey stressed before turning back around to his computer, then kind of freezing. “Wait, is Pete still here?” 

“Well yeah, I thought he was waiting for you to finish. He’s down on third floor somewhere. I think he found a basketball.” Gabe shrugged before heading out the office, and Mikey heard him make his way towards the elevator. He smiled a little again.

When he’d replied to his fifty fifth email that day, he forced himself to shut down his computer even though he was feeling a little like he could’ve easily gone and replied to hundred, and let his laptop stay in Petes office as he followed in Gabes footsteps and headed towards the elevator. 

As soon as he exited into the dark corridors of third floor, he heard the steady thumping of a ball hitting the floor somewhere close to him. Unlike the last time he’d wandered around the corridors of third floor, it didn’t take him more than a couple of minutes to find the door which the sound seemed to come from, and he pushed it open to reveal the storage room that it had taken them almost an hour to find the other day. Apparently, third floor wasn’t as big as it seemed when they actually knew where they were going. 

Pete was standing a few feet away from him, trying to throw the ball into one of the plastic boxes, whose contents he’d emptied out on the floor. He wasn’t very successful at aiming, and accidentally knocked over a stack of filled plastic boxes when Mikey slammed the door behind him and drew Petes attention towards him. 

“Yo, Michael Jordan.” He greeted and Pete threw the ball at him. Mikey caught it slightly ungracefully. “What are you doing?” 

“Reinventing the rules of basketball. It goes like this now: The team who wrecks the most wins.” Pete shrugged. 

“Sounds like Clandestine should just start a basketball team. We’d be national champions within _hours_.” Mikey laughed and put down the ball next to him before approaching Pete. 

“We’re not _that_ bad.” Pete argued half-heartedly. 

“We really are.” 

“Come here.” Pete demanded softly then, and Mikey walked up to him. “You look so good.” 

Mikey smiled as Pete put his arms around him, pulling him all the way in, pecking his lips lightly once, and then again. 

“I look like someone who just worked for ten hours straight to catch up on a week of disease.” Mikey said, mostly into Petes mouth. 

“I dig it.” Pete just whispered, and then Mikey slid his arms around Petes neck, pushing their mouths together in a deeper, realer kiss that he’d felt that he’d waited for ever since that day before the fashion show, maybe even earlier than that. It felt so natural to just go along with it, and Mikey suddenly felt really stupid that he hadn’t just gotten himself together _weeks_ ago and gone ahead and done this. He couldn’t help but huff a laugh as Pete licked into his mouth. 

“What?” Pete smiled as he pulled back and eyed him with a heavy glaze. 

“I just, I don’t think I realized how much I wanted this until, y’know, recently.” Mikey said, letting his eyes dart down towards Petes mouth. He wasn’t really done kissing him yet. 

“I did.” Pete confessed. “I knew right from when you told me to just sit the fuck down and talk to Patrick. I just didn’t want to seem like I, like, uh-“ 

Mikey nodded, leaning his forehead on Petes as he was pretty sure he knew what Pete was talking about. They’d been there before, in a car on their way to Mikeys house from the maternity ward. Mikey had wanted to sleep with Pete that night, but for some reason he’d never gotten around to doing it. Which was a shame, really. 

“Have dinner with me?” Mikey asked suddenly, after pulling himself out of his string of thoughts, realizing they’d fallen into silence. “And then go home with me afterwards.” 

Pete just looked at him with a lopsided grin. 

“Please.” Mikey added softly, and then Pete took a deep breath, leaning into kiss him again, tightening his arms around Mikeys waist. 

“God, I am so fucking- _god, Mikey_ – let’s have some fucking dinner.” He grinned, and didn’t really let go of Mikey as they started heading towards the door, leaving the basketball and the mess of plastic boxes and clothes behind them.

The restaurant was small and dark with heavy tablecloths and curtains; the waitress was a cordial, South-American woman and the food was spicy and absolutely delicious – not that Mikey really noticed, since he was on his third glass of wine in an hour and Pete was running the tip of his index finger across the back of Mikeys hand. He was pretty much ready to skip dessert and get a cab home, but then again nothing in his life had been really tactful up until then, and it was nice for once to go home with his dignity intact, with someone he wasn’t going to regret it the morning, even.

It seemed like the most unimportant crème brulée that Mikey had ever eaten, and he made a small gesture towards the door the moment that their plates were empty and they’d emptied their second bottle of wine. Pete sent him a sly grin before making eye-contact with the waitress. 

“It’s on me.” Pete said as she arrived at their table.

“What a gentleman.” She smiled knowingly as she took his credit card. “Have fun.” 

Mikey just giggled as Pete took his hand, getting up from his chair and holding on to Mikey on their way to the door. He could really feel the wine, a little more than planned, but it wasn’t crucial and when Pete let his hand wander on Mikeys thigh as they were sitting at the bus stop, he just felt really stupidly love-struck.

Back in his house, there were still blankets, tissues and empty teacups on most horizontal surfaces around the house, not that it really bothered Mikey – after all, it hadn’t taken more than a few months at Clandestine before Pete had seen him in situations that kind of made a house still representing the flu seem like nothing. He didn’t really have time to care about it either, since he’d barely closed the door before Pete grabbed his hips and started walking him towards the bedroom, where the door was slightly ajar, showing a strip of Mikeys bed. Mikey had never been so happy to see it, not even after countless nights on Department Z’s floor. 

Pete hummed against the skin at the crook of his neck as he pulled at the hem of his shirt, and suddenly the back of Mikeys knees hit the side of his mattress, and there were a little too many things going on all at once for his fuzzy brain. He fell backwards, pulling Pete with him and letting out a high giggle that Pete couldn’t help but return. 

With Pete hovering above him, eyes playful and mouth hanging slightly open, Mikey didn’t really know where to put his hands first because Pete had so many places that Mikey suspected could easily become favorite places if he didn’t watch out. He ended up pulling at the buttons of his shirt, and as soon as Petes chest was revealed, he put his mouth to it.

It took them a while of lingering and licking skin, but they finally managed to reposition without taking their mouths that much off each other, so that they were lying the right way and their feet weren’t hanging over the edge of the bed, Mikey still underneath Pete who was biting his lip and pushing his hips down into Mikeys. 

“These needs to go.” Mikey sighed before licking back into Petes mouth, tugging at his waistband before starting to work at the belt buckle. It took a while, as his other hand was settled on Petes neck as for being able to kiss him a little harder, but he managed to pull them halfway down his thighs. After that, Pete had to sit back for a minute and pull them the rest of the way off before helping Mikey with his, while Mikey just lifted his hips to give him better access. 

“Did you turn off your phone?” Pete asked with a wide grin as he threw Mikeys pants somewhere on the floor. 

“They could be calling me to tell that my house is on fire and I still wouldn’t pick up right now.” Mikey said. “Now come back up here. I’m cold.”

Pete crawled back up on top of Mikey, aligning their naked bodies and grinding on Mikey for a while, panting into his mouth, before he sucked a couple of his fingers into his mouth and then let them slip underneath Mikey. 

“Ready?” He asked, biting his lip and circling Mikeys entrance, and Mikey nodded breathlessly, pushing down towards his hand, urging him on. 

Mikey felt a little weird as Pete pushed in the first finger, not having done this for years, not since _college_ , but with the second finger he was already used to the stretch again and when Pete curled them just right he let out a noise that he’d forgotten he was even able to make. Pete didn’t seem to mind it though. 

“I want you so much.” Pete mumbled onto Mikeys skin, pulling out his fingers and positioning himself above Mikey, ready to push in. 

“Shit, Pete.” Mikey whined when he started pushing in, and inhaled a few short, sharp breaths, getting used to the feeling and at the same time just wanting Pete to go deeper, faster. “ _Fuck_.”

He didn’t manage to get out a single coherent sentence while Pete was thrusting into him, being busy clinging to Pete and kissing him hard, only parting their lips to let out ragged moans once in a while. 

It wasn’t until they were lying sticky and tangled together underneath Mikeys covers, catching their breaths and holding on to each other that Mikey managed to say anything more than strings of random words that neither of them really paid attention to. 

“God, I want you too.” He just mumbled, and Pete kissed his forehead before they drifted off to sleep.

*

“Why do we never go on dates and drink wine and fuck in beds?” Gabe asked Beckett loudly as Mikey were standing in Becketts office, still kind of giggly and stupid from last night. He couldn’t really help it. 

“Because we usually never even get out of this room before our pants have magically disappeared.” Beckett shrugged, busy stacking a bunch of paperwork while Gabe was sitting in his chair. Mikey was standing right inside the door, having just arrived at the Clandestine building hand in hand with Pete about an hour ago. It took a couple of really obviously confused glances from Joes side as they walked through the lobby, before he seemed to accept that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, and just sent them an acknowledging nod and a sly smile as they headed for the elevator. 

“I can take you out if you want to.” Beckett offered, and for the first time since Mikey had met him, Gabe seemed to be actually taken aback by something.

“Really?” He asked with a slight frown, and Mikey made an amused noise from over by the door. 

“Sure.” Beckett nodded. “Where do you wanna go?” 

Mikey watched as Gabe seemed so genuinely surprised that he couldn’t really get around to actually making a decision, but it got boring after a while so he headed down towards Department Z’s corridor, that was currently crowded with a group of plumbers, a few of the guys from Technical Department, and Frank. 

They were all standing in water that almost reached their thighs, giving the hole in the wall from which water was still seeping out concerned looks. Mikey found it almost as amusing as Gabes surprise, but then again, he hadn’t been in such a good mood for a while. Probably not since the last time he got properly laid, which he didn’t even really remember. 

“How’s it looking?” He asked as Frank spotted him on the safe side of the room divider. 

“Far more serious than first expected. They should be able to fix it within the rest of the week, but it’s gonna cost.” Frank explained, waving his arms towards the plumbers, accidentally sprinkling a bit of water at Mikey. “So, word goes about you and Pete.” 

Mikey nodded, and couldn’t help but smile a little bit, mostly at his shoes though, he wasn’t going to go completely teenage-dumb on his assistant. “Yeah.”

“About time.” Frank just huffed with a cocked eyebrow, and Mikey reached across the border between dry and flood and pushed Frank a little, to which Frank protested a lot. “Come on, he’s been eating you up with his eyes basically since you started here.”

“I need to get back to work.” Mikey just excused himself, though he didn’t really stop smiling on his way back to Petes office, that was currently empty since Pete were somewhere downstairs in a heated argument with Ryan about the summer collection. The cycle had already started over. 

“Yeah, that’s what Gabe calls it too.” Frank hollered after him, and Mikey just flipped him off before turning the corner.

*

Gerard was putting Selma to sleep while Lindsey sat opposite of Mikey in the couch, eyeing him with one of those knowing smiles that Mikey had gotten a lot of lately. 

“So, how are things going?” She asked, sending him a piercing look. 

“Busy, y’know. We’re still not even finished with the aftermath of the winter collection, and we’re already starting up the summer one.” Mikey explained innocently, taking a sip of his coffee. He had the colorful blanket wrapped all up around him, but the temperature had also fallen remarkably throughout February. It was the beginning of March now, and a little warmer in the weather though, Mikey just managed to be cold most of the time. 

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Lindsey sneered jokingly. “How are things with  your playboy over at Clandestine?”

“Great. Really.” Mikey smiled, and only blushed a little bit. It was the first time he saw his brother and sister-in-law since him and Pete officially got together, and Lindsey had just always had certain skills to make him feel like a sixteen year old under his parents scrutinizing eyes. In a good way, though. “It’s been almost a month.” 

“Why don’t you bring him for dinner?” Gerard called from the baby’s room. “I learned how to make this killer paella and I still haven’t shown it to anyone. I’m gonna be the next Ramsay.” 

Mikey looked skeptically at his brother’s wife, who just shrugged and grinned. 

“We’ll behave. I promise.” She assured, and then broke out into giggles. “Besides, you already brought him to the first family child-birth of this generation. I think he can handle paella.” 

“I grew up with Gerard and his cooking skills, though. It’s a lot to take, sometimes.” Mikey shot back and then Gerard showed up in the doorway with an offended look on his face. 

“Considering how much coffee you consume at Clandestine, you’re stomachs have got to be wrecked already. Just go ahead and ask the guy.” He said, and either Mikey was just dumb enough to believe that Gerard had actually gotten better behind a stove, or else he was just too tired and cozy and happy to argue over it.

*

“You didn’t tell me _mom_ was gonna be here too.” Mikey said, panic rising in his voice as he spotted his mom sitting at the end of her oldest son’s dining table with a glass of wine in front of her. 

“What? Just because I’m married and with kids doesn’t mean I don’t get to be full of surprises.” Gerard grinned, and when he paid a closer look to Mikeys pained expression and his tight grip around Petes hand, he tilted his head at them. “Come on, she’ll love it.” 

“She doesn’t know about, y’know, the guy thing.” Mikey whispered frantically, and Pete, who’d been standing quietly next to him, squeezed his hand and sent him an encouraging look. 

“You’re soon-to-be thirty. Don’t you think it’s time she finds out.” Pete said and sent him a short smile before carefully dragging him towards the dining room where the majestic woman with the bleached hair was sitting. 

As they entered the dining room, she took a short look at Mikey, then a longer look at Pete, then looked at their entwined fingers for what seemed like forever – and then she smiled at them.

“Gerard mentioned that you’d bring someone special.” She said to Mikey, and then reached her hand out towards Pete. It was decorated with huge rings in various shiny colors and Pete took it almost gratefully. 

“I’m Pete.” He said and nodded politely. 

“Nice to meet you, Pete.” She nodded back, while Mikey just stood quietly behind his boyfriend, watching the whole scene, listening to Gerard and Lindsey that were still in the kitchen, being unusually quiet and sounding a lot like someone who were trying not to listen to what was going on in the dining room. Mikey smiled a little to himself.

Later that night, Mikey was sitting on the carpet with his niece as she’d woken up from the nap she’d been taking while the others ate a paella that was definitely a gastronomic experience – though not necessarily a particularly positive one. 

Up at the table, Pete was telling his mom about the Winter Collection and the fashion show while Gerard took care of the dishes and Lindsey put away the rest of the food. When she was done, she came to sit by Mikey and Selma, who was sitting on Mikeys arm, eagerly picking at his sleeve and laughing at the small noises he made at her. 

“I think that if we aren’t careful, you might turn into her favorite adult a little too fast.” Lindsey said and stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Also, it’s a long time since I’ve seen someone look at someone else with as much affection as Pete looks at you with.” 

Mikey didn’t really know what to say, so he just looked up at Pete who was still deeply engaged in the conversation with his mom. 

“Of course he’s not looking now, you dumbass.” Lindsey said and nudged his arm. “His glances aren’t half as obvious as yours.”

“We’ll, we better get going.” Pete said when they’d had coffee and some cookies that were remarkably better than the main course, Mikey highly suspecting that they were courtesy of Lindsey and not her husband. His hidden talent would forever be knitting, not cooking. “Gossip Girl comes on at 11, and Mikey cries if we miss it.” 

“I don’t _cry_.” Mikey shoved Pete lightly. 

“Okay, he just sobs a little.” Pete mumbled. 

“Can we have our daughter back first?” Gerard asked with a lopsided smile. Selma was sound asleep on Mikeys shoulder, as she’d been for the past hour or so, after she got tired of playing around. 

“Damn, I was hoping to get to steal her home.” Mikey said and looked down at the sleeping baby. 

“Yeah, tell me that when she wakes you up at four in the morning because she’s hungry.” Lindsey rolled her eyes at Mikey, who then reluctantly handed over his niece. “But don’t worry, we’ve got you on speed dial if we ever need a babysitter. Now go watch your sitcom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **chapter 4 notes**
> 
> sorry for the long break but i was out of town and summer vacation stuff ya know
> 
> also this is kind of the last chapter, there's going to be a short epilogue and maybe some additional stories with other pairings or whatever, but i don't really know about that yet so let's see where we end
> 
> also a HUGE thanks to everyone who followed to story this far and to everyone who liked it and gave me feedback, it was fun to write and i hope you enjoyed reading it as well


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years later.

Mikey was sitting on the armrest of Petes chair, an arm casually around his shoulders, while Gabe and Vicky was sitting in two chairs across from them, looking equally determined, and Mikey though it was a rare and very amusing view, for them to actually agree on something. 

“We need raises.” Vicky demanded, crossing her arms and giving Pete a daring look. 

“Sky-high raises.” Gabe added, and Mikey just snickered and took a sip of the coffee cup that he was holding in the hand that wasn’t currently around Pete. 

“How come?” Pete asked innocently, and looked just as entertained by the whole situation as Mikey was. 

“You know very well how come. We’ve been representing this train-wreck of a company at every press conference or fashion convention for the past couple of years. Ross is supposed to be the vice-CEO and do these kinds of things when you’re too busy playing sugar-daddy with Mikey to show up at important events, but he doesn’t do _anything_. This isn’t even our _division_.” Vicky complained, waving her arms explanatory in the air, almost hitting Gabe in the face a couple of times. Mikey suspected that it was totally on purpose. 

“Calm down. I was planning on it anyways.” Pete laughed, and then Vicky just frowned at him. “But then I’m also going to need you to take this really important meeting with the new couturiers next weekend.”  
Gabe looked like he was about to protest, but Pete cut him off. “You’re getting so good at dealing with them.” 

“And where are you going to be, then?” He just asked skeptically. 

“I was thinking Mexico – a nice extended weekend.” Pete shrugged, looking up at Mikey who just smiled at him and huffed a laugh. “You remember that really nice place with the peacocks?”

“Yeah.” Mikey said softly. “I liked that a lot.”

*

After a weekend with a view over Gulf of California, Mikey had promised to look after Selma for an afternoon while Gerard and Lindsey went to have dinner with her parents, and Pete was catching up with, or trying to fix, what Gabe and Vicky had been up to while they’d been in Mexico.  
Apparently they had gotten into a fight with the couturier, and it wasn’t necessarily their fault but Mikey highly doubted that they were completely without guilt. After all, Gabe and Vicky had spent _years_ at war with each other, and now that they were starting to get along, remotely at least, all those aggressions would have to get out somewhere else. 

Exactly why they’d decided to bury the hatchet was still a mystery to Mikey, but he kind of suspected that it was only practical reasons, since they worked together a lot now after Pete promoted Gabe to General Secretary. It was a smart move from Petes side, meaning that when Mikey didn’t have two employees anymore, he would automatically have to do less work, and then there was more time for Pete to drag him off to hotels in quiet parts of America. Mikey was more than satisfied with the decision.

He was sitting on the couch with his niece, while she was expressing herself artistically with a handful of felt-tip pens on a piece of paper as well as on Mikeys coffee table sometimes. Mikey complimented her drawings and asked her what they depicted when Pete arrived home, carrying his laptop and a bunch of folders from third floor. 

“That’s cute.” He commented when he saw them, going straight over to kiss Mikey and ruffle Selmas hair. “You’re teaching him how to draw?”  
The girl nodded before turning back to her project on the coffee table, and Pete dropped down next to Mikey, turning on the TV. 

“Chaos?” Mikey asked, raising an eyebrow at Pete. 

“Not more than usual. I’ve never seen a weirder cooperation than between Gabe and Vicky, though.” He shrugged while flipping the channels, not really wanting to watch anything particular. 

“What about Ross and Urie?” Mikey laughed. “I still don’t get how they make things work down on second floor. Urie is like, the most flamboyant, noisy person I’ve ever seen and Ross never draws attention to himself in any way if he can avoid it.” 

“Why do you think they keep the third guy around, Smith? He’s the most ambitious guy in this entire company, except for Vicky maybe. He’s there to make the actual decisions while Ross and Urie fool around, and then he passes it on to Ross who passes it on to me. It’s like delegating work on a whole new level.” Pete said with a wavy hand-motion, making Selma look up at him. She then proceeded to hold up her drawing for him to see. 

“Your parents taught you a thing or two.” Pete mumbled, smiling at her. “You’ve got a future in that, baby.” 

“I’m so glad we have her original artwork on our furnishing for when she’s rich and famous and won’t acknowledge us.” Mikey grinned as his niece independently made her way into the kitchen to put the drawing on the fridge with the animal shaped magnets that they’d bought for that purpose exactly. 

“I want one.” Pete said suddenly, turning to Mikey with a playful expression. 

“ _What_?” Mikey asked, raising an eyebrow in Petes direction. 

“Your heard me.” Pete just said before abandoning the remote and his seat on the couch to crawl over to where Mikey was sitting, pecking his lips lightly before kissing him a little deeper. “I want to marry you, and have kids with you. Tons of them.” 

“You’re insane.” Mikey said with a curious laugh, but none the less letting Petes kisses become heavier. 

“I’m totally sane.” Pete claimed as Selma reappeared at the armrest of the couch. Pete idly picked her up,booping her nose and making her laugh. “What do you think, baby? Don’t you think uncle Mikey wants to marry me?”

“I think he does.” Mikey just mumbled before leaning in for another quick kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **epilogue notes**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> so, this was the end of the pete/mikey story, but im seriously considering making this into a series with a few accompanying stories with william/gabe, ryan/brendon and maybe even patrick/bob (i also really want something about vicky and her determined ambition bc i love it, im just not sure what yet). i'm way too fond of the clandestine fashionista universe to let this go just yet, and of course im open to ideas as well as collaborations, just hmu. 
> 
> also, regarding the notes and comments on the first chapter, the series of novels that the idea to this came from in the first place is the crime series by Jussi Adler-Olsen about Department Q in Copenhagen, and i warmly recommend it. 
> 
> anyways, once again huge thanks to everyone who read, liked and commented on the story, you've been a big help in this project.

**Author's Note:**

> **chapter 1 notes**
> 
>  
> 
> this story is savagery and i am sorry 
> 
> based on my endless love for scandinavian crime novels
> 
> feedback is appreciated
> 
> thank you


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